My Home

"The forests are my bones" I was born without a home On the forest floor I grew up I was named by the wind it's soft whispering and the music it plays is the song of my people,my mother tongue I know ever inch of its earth the forest has become my home, my solitude, its streams are my veins its roots my bones its vines are extensions of my arms, when I swing along them I feel at home I spend my days dancing with the wind painting with the sunsets I compose symphonies with the creatures of my woods the forest is my home from it I was born and in it I live,I thrive to it I will one day return and from my decaying remains another will be born to be named by the wind and entertained by wolves I was born without a home I thought but this is not true my home is all around me its beauty bright in its hue