A House With Two Feet

What is home
but the fullness
of filling out your own skin

What is home
but your own two hands
clawing out a living

What is home
but your aching back and shoulders
sagging under the weight of your responsibilities

What is home
but each skip, each beat, each silence,
each thundering of your own heart

What is home
but the only thing you were given
when you entered this world

What is home
but the body you live in