Tags
Findinghome, immigrant, immigrantstories, immigration, poetrycommunity, whereishome, whereismymind, writingcommunity, Writingemotions
Home is a place where you don’t have to be___
But you can just be.
It’s peace. Safety. It’s acceptance.
Home is closed eyes inhaling an atmosphere
Tainted with that distinct recipe.
Stern face—illuminated in a golden cloud
The music—a tragedy of natural composition;
The rawness of life in explosion.
Many have left, some returned
An osculation of the ocean that takes, sometimes gives.
Very often, home is within these walls
Captivity. Prison. Even when you’re free.
But I’ve made homes outside this world
Some, I carry no word nor trace to relive the place
Some, I’ve started tsunamis, lullabies
That echo my name to the end of earth.
I made a home when it was taken from me—
A place to be-long
Safe, open, peaceful.
Right here. Inside of me.
May you find home within. ❤
Sircharlesthepoet 