There's No Place Like Home

There's no place like home...there's no place like home. There really isn't.

But how do you define home?

They say home is where the heart is, but sometimes - most of the time- my heart feels so detached from everything - so where exactly does that leave me?

Homeless?

They say home is family. I believe it. But my family has all grown up and we've all gone our separate ways. So where does that leave me?

Nomadic?

They say home is four walls and a roof over your head. Alhumdollilah. No complaints there. But that's much to much literal for me. So where does that leave me?

I want to feel something more than just what is tangibly in front of me. I need to know there is a place I can always go to to feel safe.

From all the stress. From all the pain. From all the nonsense. I just want a place to feel like home.

Lately, the only place that feels like home is when my knees and my forehead are pressed against the ground and all my thoughts, my prayers, and scattered hopes are at peace.

Allah Akbar.





Image 1: Matters of The Heart Print: And That's Really All That matters 11x17 orange and purple ink - recycled paper
Image 2: Moslem Prostrating Himself on Prayer Rug Charles Bargue (French, 1826-1883) charcoal on smooth, moderately thick, cream wove paper

Bleeding Heart

and you say:
let's forget about it, and just carry on.
until the situation resurfaces, unresolved.

and you say:
you care, but you're insecure - I need to change.
If I change, then don't you care that I won't be the same?

and you say:
You're happy, but then constantly complain.
if you're so happy, then why would you need me to change?

and you say:
how you wish time would stop just like this.

then remind me of the days before me when you felt much more bliss.

your contradictions are consuming me.
your empty promises are numbing me.
your thoughtless actions are diffusing me.

And there you go, gallivanting about your day.
I'm here, you're there - words spoken - but nothing consequential to say.
And there you go, pretending everything is perfectly okay.
I'm here, you're there - glance averted - everything's in such disarray.


I pulled out my heart for you - and you were supposed to take care of it.
I wish there was more I could do - instead of forcing you to cherish it.

I pulled out my heart for you-- Only for you to tear it apart.
I wish there was a magic button; - Rewind ? Erase ? Back to Start???

I didn't think it was possible to feel my heart bleed.
And I don't know how you don't hear me - crying for you in need.


Image: Audrey Kawasaki's My Dishonest Heart