Today finally free,

To move home 

To Gainesville,

I was lying back on the yoga


In my studio space, 

In the loft 

When I realized

That I had finally made it. 


I am home.


One more blank line and repeat:


I am home.


I begin to cry thinking about it.

I was not home in who I was ,

Was not home at church,

Was not home among my peers,

Was not home in my beautiful marriage,

Was not home in Korea,

Was not home in the Phillipines, Thailand, Chile, New Hope or Akron,

Was never home in my body.

Was not home in any job,

Was not home among the Carines or Rennies,

Was never home in my self-loathing,

Was not home with whiskey,

Was not home with a guitar and a gig,

Was not at home with cancer,

Was never at home with death,

Was not home in spirit,


I am home. Gainesville is my home.


And I have no safety net,

I have a little bit of nothing,

And soon less.


And I have only new friends,

And no past here,

And an island,

From which I watch.


I am not happy,

Not without conflict,

But I am happy together

with more than a pinch

Of fear.



Will I make it?

Am I getting old?

I hate my voice?

I have no money,

Nothing I can count on,

What if?


What if I am home?

What if I am happy?

What if I let go?

What if I surrender?

 All my thoughts in little lines,

All my heart filled with warmth and joy,

A light in the tunnel of my future,

Thank Gods and Goddesses,

I have landed.




Justine Mara Andersen

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