My Home

It is neither made of steel nor stone
Nor wood nor glass nor iron;
But amidst any misfortune and storm
It stands, magnificent and strong —
Such is my home.

Built not by machine nor by hand
It stands not on a barren land;
On a lofty plane it is nestled deftly
It’s foundation, as hard as anything can be —
Well-built, it must be.

Rooms, it has; and doors and windows, too
All wide open for everyone to pass through;
Walls, I know there is none
And locks, I can’t think of a need for one —
My home welcomes everyone.

Inside, it is warm and soft and cozy
Everyone who visits is hummed a melody;
Its rhythm, not quite out of the ordinary
But its beat, sincere and steady —
In it, I dwell comfortably.

At night, the dweller in my home sleeps peacefully
Of the howling winds, she does not worry;
Of the wars outside, she is not at all bothered
The good always wins, she is assured —
A secure heart doesn’t easily get injured.

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Sherma E. Benosa
February 26, 2007; 12:37am