Clench your jaw and turn the knob—

Open your eyes, I say, and snap your fingers

to the beat of the train, to the rhythm of its tracks.

Turn around and stand upright—

Take a step closer,

Darling, and look at their faces,

at all that love pouring from their eyes,

unconditionally, indiscriminately.

Wipe your brow and fix your hair—

Bend over, I say, and till the soil,

to make way for the new crops in your field;

there will be more than you can fathom.

Turn around now! Stand tall!

Feel the sun’s glow! Feel its generous warmth melt your skin!

There’s no better way to finish than with a deep breath and a sigh!

But where is your home, Darling? Where is your home?

Is it in your heart,

or is it in your room?

Is it where you rest your head each night,

in some land you’ve never been to,

or in the eyes of a stranger you’ve just met?

Where is your home when you’re alone in your kitchen

heating oil and preparing meals—

sizzle, crack—

the sound that brings you back

to the place you were born,

to the people you loved.

Now, slowly, stretch your arms and clear your throat—

Open your senses, I say, and inhale the air,

that of sweet potato and olive oil wafting from your home.

Open the cupboard and fill your plate—

Take off your shoes, I whisper, and close all the shutters

so you can rest your feet and sink into the couch.

Keep steady now, and don’t falter—

Open your eyes, I say, and do it all again,

until every one of your crops grows,

until they’ve become as high as they can reach,

until they bear as much fruit as they can carry—

Until the Earth’s water runs out and the Sun ceases to shine,

for only then will their growth be futile.

But you, Darling, have another thing coming for you—

So close your eyes, drift to sleep,

have sweet dreams, and wake up with peace.

When you awaken, it will all come true—

Darling, I just know it will.