A hard word to define.
Returning home after our summer pleasantries.
Musings on finding home.
Giving credit to Orla Gartland’s song “Roots”, which inspired the thought behind this poem.
I have no childhood home, no one place I can go back to for safety, where I can say, yes that was my nursery and that is where I lost my first tooth and this is the place where I played hide and seek with the neighborhood kids during warm summer evenings. My parents were in motion all through my early years, moving once for every year of my life until the year I turned 5 and my brothers were not yet one year old…
A bit of free-form stuff, strongly influenced by my own feelings and experiences.
This was a subject I stumbled over when I wrote my entry yesterday, so I wrote something up for it today.