Tags
becoming, breath, conscious consciousness, destiny, fearless, gravel roads, life, living, love, old maps, passion, restless, soul speak, southern, spirit, truth, understanding, value, wandering
eighteen more acres
than e’er there were sons
a living pinned down
by the rain
a faded love letter
was certain intent –
could leave every reason
and burn down the barn
with worry for who
will be baptized on Sunday
who will be gone
when the counting begins
of passion worn thru
by belief in forever –
held by the promise
of home
. . .
tornadoday 
The last stanza saves it all …
It is a promise we carry……..home in the very shoes we wear………an earth that remembers us well. ❤ Thank you, Salva…….. xo
To the point. 🙂
Magic words….the love of home which is wherever we may be and the trust that all is well..love always ❤ xXx
Surely, home is wherever there is love……. wherever you are……. ❤
This reminds me of a time when not sure of where to call home… xo
Me
…and yet…….always (somehow) you were moving toward it………
Very nicely written
Thank you, my dear one. I am so appreciative of your kindness.
Every poem you share is a gem in its own special way, no matter the subject they always touch our hearts and minds…the passion you share in words reminds me that when it is time to return to the home my heart longs to see…it will be such a very lasting and beautiful healing event…awesome poem my sister!
Wendell, I’m almost positive that you are home to many……..your arms, a place always worth coming back to.