We search for home;
We fantasise, we dream.
We pass through its hearth and warmth
In the pursuit of another’s sweet embrace.
We knock at its neighbour’s door
Enquiring about their provisions,
Measuring to see if they will house.
Then we return home
To decide when we can move.
We sleep in home’s bed, dreaming
Of one day achieving the rest
Of an imagined pillow that holds our head.
We run and run to grass always greener
And quickly forget which shade we were comparing.
We search and journey to find the elusive
And have fallen in love with the motif of quest
When what we truly desire is a place to belong.
We travel around the globe
To experience the new
Because the old has got under our skin
And has found out what’s there.
The old uncomfortably knows us
And we are scared of what it might say.
The braver person is not
The one who breaks new ground
And travels the world,
Discovers fresh territories
And explores the unknown;
No. The braver person is
The one who stays and allows
Their inner world to reveal its hidden-ness,
The wide empty spaces,
The dark corners and the questionable characters
That will take you for a ride
And milk you for all you’ve got.
It is in this inner place
You discover a landscape
Of immeasurable beauty
And a tranquility that surpasses location.
To know the riches of beyond externals
Is the fruit of the noblest task.
Home is not found nor made
From the vapour of our own imaginings;
It is forged in the fire of commitment,
The pressure of staying
And the searing heat of vulnerability.
The risk of relationship costs
More than any flight, visa or relocation;
All these put together and more besides
But the pay off can not be contained
In a bank balance, travel guide or holiday snaps.
Home is not just where the ones you love are,
It is where the ones you have wrestled with
And have stayed are.
Home is where you learn
That real love surprises you
By hiding under discord and alienation.
Home is where the heart beats
In a rhythm that Time has trained and honed;
A tempo that when you are anywhere else
Jars and irks and begins to lose itself.
Home is where obedience
Is rewarded with freedom;
Where one can grow
Thanks to the roots
Thanks to the soil.
Written after a weekly Burning Fences gathering at El Piano, York where we shared reflections on what we are looking for in our individual futures. The common theme of ‘home’ emerged. This was then read at a Burning Fences event called ‘Family’ on Sunday 11th May 2014.