I did not know where I lived was not acceptable, until the rich man came

and told me it wasn't

I did not know my house was not good enough, until the white man came and told me it wasn't

I thought my worn, green floors held me upright when sorrow took hold

But in his narrow view he missed that

I felt like my wind chimes, hanging like silver stars on the front porch, played me love songs all day

The kitchen window let me see the moon , and the stars peeked in on me, from my bedroom window each night


I knew my spirit resided in my home


And, that my tribe have gathered here for many years, for happy times, birthdays, funerals and mourning's


Our spirits inhabit the halls and walls, there were no ghosts here, only in your mind


No, you saw clutter, where there was creativeness. You saw messes where I saw love

Yes, you saw that


But this, I know, I saw that home is not a building. It was with each other. That's what I saw.


Nita Barrow- Zimmerman @ November 7, 2010