Home tastes like strawberries in summer.
Feels warm like your hand on my hand.
Sounds like a song on repeat that never gets old.
Home is like hot African air that brushes my skin and decides to camp there.
Like the scent plants produce when it rains.
Like a basket full of flowers and a ragdoll full of dreams and hopes.
Home is the walls I sometimes build to protect the fortress of my heart.
A cocoon made of cotton candy and whispers.
The wounds I tend to when no one is looking.
Home is chanting Aum in unison.
Home is looking back and meeting your eyes.
Is hearing my own words in the voice of strangers.
Is watching the stars at night and realizing home is wherever I go.
Because I chose to inhabit this body and my body is home to my soul.
I am home.
I am home.
I am home.
What is home to you,
Beautiful soul?
I want to invite you to get pen and paper and let your hand reveal this to you.
But first focus on the feeling of the pen in your hand.
The texture of the paper.
The rhythm of your breath.
Give yourself permission to slow down.
To let go of any sort of perfectionism or obligation.
And remember that writing is nothing more than an exercise in expression.
We write to uncover what lives inside of us.
We reach deep within our bodies and grab this life force in the form of words.
And then we release those words because they long to be expressed.
That is the sole purpose of creation.
Your hand is a mere vehicle in this process.
Feel free to scribble or even doodle on the page while you listen to my voice.
It is time to play.
Don't get discouraged if nothing comes out at first.
The words are there and they will come out when they're ready.
What is home?
Your body knows the answer.
It lies hidden in old impressions that are never forgotten.
A sensation in your skin.
A color.
A smell.
A familiar object.
A flutter of the heart triggered by something beautiful.
Home is.
Home feels.
This is my home.
What words are awakening in your hand?
What images?
Which part of your body recognizes what home is?
Let the music invade every cell of your body and awaken these feelings.
These words.
How did it go?
Whether you wrote a full poem or just a word or nothing at all,
Be proud of yourself for giving your body a chance to express itself.
If you feel there is more left to uncover,
I recommend you go for a walk and come back later.
The paper will still be there,
Waiting for you.
If you want to share your poem in a comment,
I would love to read it.
Other than that,
I hope wherever you are,
You feel at home.
Thank you for writing with me today.
