A poem a day...day four
Home
in the beginning
home was a place.
it had walls.
memories punctuated
every stone,
a chair could sum up
an entire history.
there were points
where remembering
became more acute,
more timeless.
a table, around which
we sat, carried dozens
of dinners, breakfasts,
finger paintings.
then, the still frames
began to move.
home became a variable –
a sense of leaving
and returning
and we became
unhitched, searching
for re-beginnings.
now we softly settle,
and once again give
the word a certain
geography, but
acknowledging
what we have learned.
home is not the place,
but those inside.
Today is National Poetry Day - time to think about your favourite poems, why you love them, and to share them with one another. This year's theme is 'Home', which is why I have used this topic here.
Because today's poem is, yet again, written only today, it inevitably is more 'churned out' than finely crafted. Parts of it make me wince. It's not what I would want it to be. Nevertheless, despite its sketchiness, I hope it holds a hint of potentiality.
Do you like poetry? Why? Why not?
Any favourites?
Day One: walk with me
