First Day

Home
Has always been important to me
But it is becoming something all together
Different, and more meaningful
I’ve always loved it for the way my books are
Stacked up and my plants are placed
When I was young, I would’ve
Rather been home than anywhere else

But now, even
The dishes in my sink are a sign
Of an appetite met
Of being full, of being fed
The rug spread out on these aged parquet covered floors
Is a comfort on my feet and
It is a luxury

See, even the locks on my doors are a symbol of privacy
The lampshades and the bathroom sink
Only my toothbrush and his
And no need to sanitize every time I touch the porcelain

I have become too comfortable with my comfort
Not noticing the power of space and the importance
Of every moment that I spend between my couch,
My kitchen table, my bed
This is sacred and it is
No longer going unnoticed

These steps that are taken from the hallway
To the front door
The sound of the keys scratching against the lock,
The flicker of the light when it first comes on
The time spent waiting for the water to warm
What other detail have I lacked gratitude for?

I can’t deny the depth of the sadness that I feel,
But can I balance the overwhelm of insufficiency with
Something inside of me?
Only your joy will carry me through this
Only your strength will keep me from uselessness