I’ve never been, precisely, homeless.
I’m securely (so far) settled in the 1%
(Not in this country,
But certainly in this world).
When I’ve had a long day
And I suspect there’s viruses at play
I have a comforter
Of bright cranberry tones
To wrap my weary corpus.
I don’t care for it, much,
This place I live,
But the rain that’s falling stays outside
And my comforter does not need
To turn aside the chilly wind.
And yet I’ve felt the empty space,
The yawning gulf within that yearns
A place refreshing to the body and the soul.
A place where shelter makes a space of calm.
Pull up the cranberry comforter, then.
This son of earth, and stars, and spirit
Needs refreshing, needs renewing,
Needs a #home.