The home I grew up in
Had no roof
So that the sun could shine through
So that the moon could cast its glow
On all that I did
And
So that the clouds could cover the sun
And the rain
And the snow
Could water my body
Could water my feet
Could water my family
Whenever they needed it.

The home I grew up in
Had no exterior walls
So that wind could sweep
Out all the dust and cobwebs
Whenever they needed sweeping.

The home I grew up in
Had no doors
So that everyone living there
Could come and go
Whenever they needed coming or going.

The home I grew up in
Had no windows
So that my eyes could see
So that my ears could hear
My neighborhood
And it could see
And it could hear
As much of me as it wanted
Whenever they needed seeing or hearing.

The home I grew up in
Had no interior walls
So I could learn never to lean
So I could learn never to back against anyone
So I could learn never to back against anything
So I could learn never to be cornered
Whenever I desired leaning or backing or being cornered.

The home I grew up in
Had no floor
So that the earth could hold me
When I stood
When I ran
When I slept
When I crouched down
When I leapt with all my might
Far away from that home.

© Copyright 2017 by John David Higham. All rights reserved.