Home

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I have seen so many places and traveled far, spending nights in unfamiliar hotels, airports, and making friends with people of different-colored skins. After weeks of winding roads, I return home with wrinkled suitcases, and reach for a door knob that to this day, makes my heart beat a little faster.

Is that you?!, she calls. I hope I can hear her call as long as I’m alive.

Home is that little corner of the world, a familiar place where the pillows and blankets smell like us. There is a picture of mine from when I was seven and then, twenty seven; and no place else have I seen those photos.

The pen that wrote this, rests to one side of a mug on my desk. Oh, and there is one old chair that has graciously changed her shape to embrace my bones. Delight means dropping my bags and surrendering to its cushions.

Home is the only place where I can do nothing while it is bitter cold and snowing outside. The one who knows me better than myself, makes me chicken soup that fogs my glasses; the music plays, the candles melt, as snow falls into the night.

I know this world is moving fast, but I pray that this home will be my last, for it calls me back, time and again, to my mate, my pen, to my old chair, to the smell of books, pillows, and disheveled blankets.

One day, you might visit my home, but you might not feel what I feel here.

God Bless your Home and Family..

Kambiz Naficy

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=kambiz+naficy

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My Life

photo

I was looking at the breeze

sliding through the palms

looking

at my happy wife

and happy life

thinking

how much work it has taken

to chisel out this life

into a jewel.

 

“My life” –

the words floated before my eyes

as I floated on Gulf waters.

 How rewarding it would be

If we were all to work at the life

and the craft that we savor

so that we may carve out a jewel called

“my life.”

How decent it would be to protect that life

and wife at any cost,

for they are jewels not to be displayed

to those who have not done

their work of carving out and polishing

what I am calling

 “my life.”

They have gone wrong

and bitter

with false expectations and fantasies

lacking the courage

that it takes

to carve a jewel called

“my life.”

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Home

Kambiz Naficy (www.joyoflifeorganiztion.com)

Facebook: joy of life organization

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All of us are looking to find our way back home.

 Home is where someone is waiting for you with open arms.

Home is that place of unconditional love.

Home is that wagging tail or the purr of your cat soooo happy that you’re back.

Home is a comfortable bed that smells you like and the ones you love.

Home is smell of mama’s cooking that soothes your soul.

Home is where you will find your parents’ wedding picture and a grandparent’s photograph with wrinkles of wisdom running across the years.

Home is that familiar squeak of the door, the sound of the clock, and the sound of children running around.

Home is where you leave the chaos of the outside world, sit and hug your loved ones, and thank God that your inner-world is ever-intact.

 God Bless your Home and Family

Kambiz Naficy

Facebook: Joy of Life Organization

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