Coming home

Coming home is not this walking
through the door of your house
after the long journey
from mountains filled with wonder,
is not even this sitting here again
on the chair that carries the memory
and shape of your body,
but is the subtle whisper
of that tiniest plant in the forrest
connecting my skin to yours
in the invisible web of life
that shapes the memory
of all things.

Wherever you are on your journey
of homecoming,
however weary and tired
from all the luggage you carry,
still heavy and unpacked,
know that any breath you take
shelters the possibility of a thousand doors
opening your heart to that whisper.
Once you hear it, you will come to know
that we are already home.