All I Want Is To Be Home.
a home is a place
where you feel secure
to unfurl after everything
the world’s made you endure.
a home feels safe
even when it’s not
because a comfortable lie
is still worth a lot.
a home is a building
ceilings and floors
and walls to keep
the wolves from the door.
a home is a person
sturdy and true
a rock to fall back on
there always for you.
home is warmth
home is respite
home, in the darkness,
is one’s guiding light.
if all else should fail you,
your body can be your home.
you,
resolute in your skin,
even when you’re alone.
i have never been at home
in my own skin.
i’ve never known anyone
who stayed long enough to be
a rock on my shore.
i have never remained in any one place
where i wasn’t uprooted
before i could grow.
if one never knew
stability,
security,
or intimacy,
would they know it
if they saw it?
would they embrace it
if they got it?
would they lose it
if they found it?
what is home
to someone
who’s never
had one?
Originally published at https://vocal.media.
