They say your home is where your heart is

But what if your heart is always


Climbing up mountains
Running down with rivers
Dreaming under stars

Home is with those you love
But what if you love the wind,
the rain
Sky splattered with clouds or stars or airplane trails

What if you love the road,
the leaving,
the returning,
the hundred-thousand steps


Where, then, is home?

All content copyright Anni Kruus 2017

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The smell of trees after rain.
Squeezing a hand when you’re in pain.

Conversations without sound.
Watching ferris wheels go round and round.

Making a new friend.
Wishing the night would never end.
Sitting by a fire, losing track of time.
Jump on a trampoline and pretend that you can fly.

Sway and move your body with the beat.
Curl up in a bed of fresh clean sheets.

Looking out the window,
slowly noticing the wonder
of rain and growth and bicycles,
people walking, talking to each other on their phones.

Close your eyes and see the galaxies.
Find happiness in sorrow and struggle in peace.

Lying underneath the stars.
Find the meaning of your scars.
Staying up ‘till sunrise.
Look into a pair of trusted eyes.

When someone else prepares the dinner.
Let another see your inner
world of colour, madness, sadness, loneliness.
Discovering a key to treasure chest.

Laugh until your face and belly hurt and breath falls short.
Try and fail, and try and fail – and try again once more.

Pick the first flowers of the Spring.

The sound of thunder, the salty scent of sea.
Knowing this is where you need to be.

Chocolate bars, snowfalls, old books and wine.
It’s going to be fine this time.