Home is where…

Deep rooted connection and alignment happen effortlessly,

Where my protective wall just falls away,

Where I am understood without claim,

Where my inner song awakens and takes flight,

Where the familiar wraps around me like a warm old blanket,

And whiffs of past lives bridges generations.


Home is where….

A melody passed down in the bones of my people,

Is echoed in my silent prayers and

In my homesick longing for my land,

In dreams of pacing the old acre and

In the earthy smell of freshly ploughed fields.


Home is…

In the singsongs of a family gathering,

In the memories of happy days spent together,

In the reminiscing’s of times gone by,

Returning to the streets of my youthful self,

In the flashings of that free-spirited teenager

Or of that me child who is one with the earth.


Home is where…

The gurgling stream speaks my mother tongue,

While the sleeping giants moan lowly as I meander along the mountain path

And the crashing wave pulls me closer with every tidal breath.


Home is where…

The fairy ring remains an untouched sacred space

And ditches are decorated with navelwort and primrose,

Interwoven by a vibrant green carpet of moss.


Home is…

Feeling safe where my inner compass

no longer searching for what’s beyond,

Where a contentment and a oneness unfold,

Rejoicing in me just being, being home.


Olivia O’Keeffe