When I think of “Home”
My masani’s (maternal grandma’s) home
I see a stretched canvas of blue
With sponge-painted clouds
And streaks of
Sunlight.
Imagine an endless black sky
Embedded with multicolored gems
As they sparkle off the
Moons pseudo light.
I stand in that open space
Of pop up brushes,
And wild aqua green sage
That mimics the look of sheep,
Who are just as fluffy and white
Like those cotton candy clouds
With scattered cedar and juniper trees.
When I think of home
I can cry as she wraps
Me in her frail arms of velvet,
And whispers, “Shí che’e, welcome home.”
That’s when I say to myself
“I’m home again.”
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