Home Is Where We Trust Our Eyes Poem by Mark Heathcote

Home is where we begin to heal,
life is a straitjacket
I wish I could just take-off-this-vest
because home is the place
a comely angel makes her homely nest.

Home is where we trust our eyes
and shut the window
on our stray-cat outside thoughts
home is the place we-don't-go prowling
to find a saucer of congealed milk
or another's rheumatic healing touch of silk.

Home is a rainbow, can't-you-understand?
There's a poisoned inkwell in my head,
running dry writing letters to life outside
these four walls, I too, wish, I too, was long dead.
Home is an island on a weekend honeymoon
it's a gypsum palace somewhere in paradise.

Home is where we begin to heal
and take off that life's straitjacket
home is a rainbow you can't distrust.
Home is where we all must trust our eyes.