Hi to everybody...here's another one of my poems...:)

Home

Bricks and mortar build a shelter
but does it make a home?
Precious objects decorate the walls
and fill the empty spaces.
Furniture and carpets add a touch
of comfort for the body,
but do these constitute a home?

These materials build a dream,
a hope for security from harm.
Provide a sanctuary in a world
torn apart with strife and pain.
They are the building blocks
of safety into which their occupants
retreat and call a house a home.

But a house is just a house
when all is said and done.
And its contents are just contents
when viewed with open eyes.
So what makes a home to call your own
seem the answer to a dream,
when, clearly, in our world, it’s not.

All too frequently, a house
hides a multitude of sins.
It presents a public image
of domestic harmony and bliss.
But, should the façade crumble,
and the pain inside be seen,
then it’s clear a house is not a home.

So where lies the dream of home
that dominates our lives?
It can only be inside our selves,
not built by human hands outside.
In the centre of our being
where meets the body, mind and heart,
there lies our real and only dwelling.

This true and only home can
seem like a prison for some.
If there are wounds unhealed in time,
then few are welcomed in.
Only when these are cauterised by love
will their doors be opened wide, and,
in the healing, make a place for others.

‘Home is where the heart is’
is a wise and ancient adage.
It makes fools of those who
rely on only bricks and mortar.
Sadly, so many hearts have fallen
on the battlefield called home,
not many now believe it, but it’s true.

In the heart lies undying love,
the source of all our hope.
In the heart lies unfailing faith
the source of all our strength,
and, from its depths, a dream is born
which every heart embraces that, one day,
love will make a home in us forever.

*****

Great big hugs to one and all...