home

homeless means homes of many places.

my brain has learned it before, but these months it's begun to mean something new. before, it meant that i had my place, be it heavy funked air of bluefields or the buffalo ridden suburbian oasis (e.g. daniel's park or pearl street walk) or the freedom sands of samara.

but now, now it means the arms of my durangatangs that don't mind my gypsy year & the county road two fifty night sky & turtle lake's hidden valley hugs & knowing that my family is ever growing, even though some choose to leave. my home is those who love me regardless, my home is those who love me because, my home is here, my home all those wheres.

as i become more me, and my path finds those who will landcrab as we work or those who play with rocks in peruvian jungle, i know i am home. as i discover my onions & they laugh with my layers & they crinkle with my strangeness, i know i am following where i'm meant.

thank you to those that know, and those that shelter, & those that rise with me. & those who have left, i understand them too. we had our time & perhaps it was long or maybe just short, but my love follows all that have kept my feet chasing. my heart beats with all my homes be it person or place, & she's grateful for all that's come.

my chest doesn't weigh tonight, or maybe it just weighs with all the goodness she's been gifted. this life we've created together is magic beyond print.