Feeling at Home

by John Herlihy

Feeling at home is a state of mind,

Such feelings refer not to a place.

Not feeling trapped in a daily grind,

Peace spread as butter across the face.

The home of childhood, fireflies in jars,

The smell of my mother’s hand lotion.

The calligraphic smoke of father’s cigars,

The days unfolding as in a magic potion.

My childhood days are long since gone,

My home may vary in this land of exile.

Home comes with me singing its song,

My thoughts of home bring forth a smile.

Neither seeking nor finding, home there,

Lying in me as a state of perpetual grace.

Happily coming home as a bee in a hive,

Enriched by the honey of this sacred place.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Sunday 21 September 2025