A Home For Me....

i have not met someone who says that this is clean.

the majority says, it is filthy and must be thrown away.

i know others keep it, hide it inside their hearts and

lives with it like the way one accepts a disease, like the

way you take something unclean as part of your daily routine.

i have to be honest, i am one of those that keep a secret.

this secret makes my heart sing with the wind, lifts my spirit

to the sky, makes those dead in me alive again, and i hear someone

saying, ' why should something which makes me alive be so wrong? '

i travel inward, i set aside rules, i have questions for the makers

of history, i am challenging the norms, the fences of traditions,

and like a prisoner, i find solace in the darkness of the night

when the guards are asleep and dreaming, i escape.

i go beyond the borders of an old country and try the untrodden

paths of the new land, sail the one still not on the map and

arrive there without any longing of going back home.

when i land there, and see the forests, i shall name it home.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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