At Home

At Home – The House of Belonging 
– by David Whyte

At home amidst
the bees
wandering
the garden
in the summer
light
the sky
a broad roof
for the house
of contentment
where I wish
to
live forever
in the eternity 
of my own
fleeting
and momentary
happiness. 

I walk toward
the kitchen
door as if walking
toward the
door of a recognized 
heaven

and see the
simplicity 
of shelves and
the blue dishes
and the
vaporing 
steam rising
from the kettle
that called me in. 

Not just this
aromatic cup
from which to drink
but the flavor
of a life made whole
and lovely
through the 
imagination 
seeking its way. 

Not just this
house around me
but the arms
of a fierce
but healing world. 

Not just this line
I write
but the 
innocence
of an earned
forgiveness
flowing again
through hands
made new with
writing. 
And a man
with no company
but his house,
his garden,
and his own
well peopled solitude,

entering
the silences
and chambers
of the heart
to start again.

—	“At Home – The House of Belonging” by David Whyte (from his book River Flow - New & Selected Poems, 1984 - 2007)