For never return. I did not stay
At home, just left.
What was it? Inertia, inaction,
Prophetic soul? The Prince and I,
Pathetic both, with self-inflicted wounds and pain,
Nostalgia: missing home.
They’re wrong who say that home is
Where heart is.
No, it’s actually where stomach is,
And job is, and monthly paycheck is,
and the savings account.
Heart is gentle, what worst can it do?
Compare that to stomach’s doings and see
who wins. Stomach, once aroused, rumbles and grumbles
And pushes the body it owns,
Rajnish Mishra is poet, writer, thinker and blogger. He has published more than a dozen books, and has edited six anthologies. He runs his own poetry ezine: PPP Ezine and blogs