Guide us home

A different view, a different direction

behind the door,the secret treasure

Eyes closed, I see you here with me,

Two clocks , two zones, two thoughts,

a single hope – love will guide us home.

***

Inspired by Twiglet , Wednesday Verses & In other words

#Thankfulthursday To life ..

The world thrives on stories of hope,

Little cracked,but surviving homes;

I live each moment in awe

From when life picked me first

So out of line, yet so full of want;

You are home to me,my world,

The only constant reminder,

My prayers and wishes answered;

No matter what changes around,

Am blessed;love can be found

If you raise a toast for the gifts

That equally to strangers, you receive to give.

***

Today’s prompt by Tina & Amrita’s page for thankful Thursday post is about Home. I have always found home with people and not in places. So this is a verse dedicated to the friends and my husband who have made home in my heart. Also Jamie asked us to write a poem on raising a toast to life. This is my thankful verse for life for the blessings and the constant reminder that there always is love around when you give that freely to others.

Also linking this poem to Open Link night.

Leaving another verse about being light for yourself and others that I am glad I learned some how , even if a little late ..

Stay blessed !

Finding home.

This is a different world. This is a different life. I like it but I can’t get used to it. Meaning of home has changed. And how.

This is a facebook status I put this weekend. This weekend was the same that I spent with my parents. After almost 2 – 3 months I spent more than 1 night at home. And even though I loved being there – being lazy , being silent , cooking for mom and dad , meeting best friend in town , sleeping , reading and watching one movie each day of the weekend [ yes , it was this awesomely perfect] ; a part of me felt uneasy.

It was like I was a guest in that home. I knew the people living there , but not the space they occupied. It was like I once was in the frame but now have slipped out of it and looking at the empty picture with unease.

When did I begin to feel restless at my own home ? Was it always this way but I kept ignoring it while busying myself with siblings. I guess being alone with parents made me feel their loneliness but instead of sharing it , it made me feel like them. Still, they had their home . I did not.

A dear and very much special friend commented on the status :

Home has always been where your heart is. In other news, welcome to grown up world dear. You are ready to make your own home.

And that set me thinking a bit more. To some extent , I felt at home in the house I live in right now with my bestie.  From long there was parent’s home and “my” home. But now I don’t feel I have any home. Yes , for once I feel lost. If that’s a beginning of growing up , I guess the journey has begun.

I need a corner of my own , surrounded by my books and music , my choice of wallpapers and feel of the cold floor beneath my feet. I am finally ready to support and provide to others, the anchor I need. I am prepared to step out and claim my mark on some space.

I have to go.
Go and create or search my home.
Just my space of love.

PS : growing up can be so lonely and confusing. even when you got someone to hold and look upto for love.

==

Poetry lovers , please check my e book on amazon here. Let me know if you need help with kindle installation or download of the book.

when I think of home

There was a time, I could have said I have no home – my parents own one and that’s a place I would be welcome always. I live is a cozy room with one of the sweetest soul I know and that’s a place I forever want to return each day – to the same bed , books , that make shift kitchen , those welcome smiles of my friend and our shared space. I feel grounded when am in there – just myself. The honest , open and enlightened. But love has gone some where else. There is a place I have started feeling homely even when I have never been there. A small bed facing the tv , a computer and book rack nearby , a huge window that opens to a view of a lovely tree that’s home to many birds. pets running around the bed in circles , trying to reach me as smell of tea and fresh cookies fill the air. That’s a home I dream of. That’s the home I want. To paint the walls with our smiles and to fill it with colors of our togetherness. Where each season is welcomed alike and celebrated with music and words.

That’s a home I want for myself.
That’s a heaven I will make my own.

Some day , I hope.