To me there is nothing like home. As I've grown I realize I have many different places I can call home, favorite coffee shops, church, the library, school, favorite trails etc, but there is still nothing like the original.
"Homeward Bound"
Driving down the highway I reach and scratch my hand
I scream at the top of my lungs!
My voice shakes octaves much higher than the music blaring
or air entering through the car door
I zig zag down the mountain and I long to feel REAL
to break FREE from this entrapped car and FLY
Fly to the peaks of the blue ridges
Stretch my soul to the heavens and meet my ancestors
where they first stood
To know of a time when real hard work was valued
Work on and of the land
When music was made from the voices of the woods,
and community was felt not in texts or calls but in true mammal warmth
I long to sleep under the stars and feel the rain
For without these true sensations I return to the same familiar places
In cars trapped and wanting
In a mind that screams to be free
This is a photograph of one of my homes...Long Beach Island, NJ "The Shore"
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