I like this planet,
but sometimes,
I just wanna phone home.
The problem is …
I forgot its phone number
or even where it is
or rather, «what» it is.
or is home a «when»?
or is it a «who»?

Could home be an idea,
not meant to materialize?
Is there only one home,
or are there more than one?
Is home a figment of my imagination?
Lately, that’s what it is.
Home is a tiny vessel
that I keep moving from my heart
to my mind and vice versa.

I’m not living at home.

Home lives inside me, and it’s a mothership.

By Michelle L. Hardy