The word home hasn’t left my head

Constantly searching for what feels right

Shaking hands,

Making plans,

Will you please listen for tonight?

See—Home is a complicated concept

Just a feeling that crept up on me my first summer at camp.

I was having fun, looking into Owl’s eyes and as I cried—

I realized that love can’t be a lie and family is true.

So I spend the year with names tattooed on my chest

—The names of girls who’ve shared my owl nest

And their stories

ignite me with passion

Give me a pen and a mission

Grant my feet some traction

Because I’m supposed to counsel my girls

And yet they seem to school me

On how to dance, laugh and just be

A better woman and a friend.

They teach me patience and trust,

That hugs can fix your day

And that you must open yourself to being loved.

If I could, I would build four walls ’round your beautiful face

And make a space where you can say,

“Yea! This is my place!”

And our tears would wash away inside the words of a poem

And our fears couldn’t penetrate this camp we call home.