Home is a complicated word. 

Home has history,
home has time,
home has the entirety of a life, 
home is long 
and bittersweet 
and longing. 

Home is so many things. 

Home is your parent's arms around you, 
home is the call of the mosque winding through air
home is the spices in the bazaar, 
home is kabaab cooked over the fireplace, 
home is the family get togethers in the gardens, 
home is the dining table 
home is large blankets that swallow you whole
home is dragonflies drifting in the breeze
home is the feeling of a glowing summer evening. 

Home is so many things. 

Home can be houses spread 
over land
home can be wherever you are 
at the time,
home can be one place your
entire life, 
home can be some place you have 
never been.

Home is so many things. 

For me, 

Home is my body. 

My body has been everywhere 
floating through space 
moving through different structures
that are supposed to be my home,
it's so much bigger on the inside
if you ever see in there,
the one place I won't leave behind 
until I die,
and sometimes I hate it and 
sometimes I don't, 
but I've never felt more at home 
than when I am me,
and no one else,
sitting in my room, 
spending time with myself,
I carry my home with me,
it's part of me, 
anywhere, anytime, 
can feel welcome, 
to me, 
my body is my home. 

Home can be so many things.

I'm not torn between two countries,
I carry them with me, 
I carry a piece of everywhere I've ever been
with me, 
I carry a piece of each person I've met 
with me, 

Home is where the heart is. 

Well, I guess that was true all along. 

My body will always be my home.