Home is… (a Different Hue) – Poem

Home is…(a Different Hue) and photograph by: Erickson

The sun slips her colors.
Orange-pink uplifts gray clouds
And green-yellow encourages frothy waves. These are the same days our ancestors found ground,
Home is home is home.

The city presses us close, to ponder.
Dark towers dissolve into skies — blue and black,
Like Stephen King, us, with pens in hand.
To stand for understanding
at the baking breath
of a welcome mat.
Home,
is home is home.

We are encapsulated in beauty
Like a baby born in a white hospital room —
With sun beaming through the largest of windows…
Yet below, a tiptoe
Stirs our chests —
Terraforming anxieties rummage like rolling stones.
The sun sits still, and our petrified faces are
mute cocoons,
unsure of their identity.

You have to leave
to feel it.
You have to
slip your colors.
Home,
is home,
is home.

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