The belly of the catapult


Home is a wanderer’s desire
Or ever recurring nightmare.

Home is root and seed
And beginning and end
To every life story.

Home is mother’s love
And or father’s aura.

Home is a web or a blanket
Or a bank of fear or hope.

Home is the roof that separates
You and the hot, scorching sun.

Home is the belly of the catapult
And the stone’s final stop.


Fiona Leonard said…
reminds me of a family we met in Canada - had 22 children. Their washing line went for miles...

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