Tag: home

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“Who will be my home?”
Everyone looks outside the window and asks.
But I can’t remember what a home is,
Is it my mind, my body, my family, my city, my country?
I’ve been a stranger everywhere,
Often enough to ask like a little child
What is a home?
Home is the person you love, they say,
The person you return to after a day of rain and hailstorms,
The arms you hide inside when the world comes out to swallow you whole.
It’s not that I don’t know what a home is
I can’t feel it.
All I can understand with my massive joke of a brain
Are stories.
You and I, we’re stories, we’ve always been
Some are more than that, they are dreams.
Therefore I’ve stopped searching for a home
(After years of walking along aimless alleys and lanes which lead nowhere)
I’ll start stringing words and actions into tales
Only hoping they’ll connect me to a story that I can call mine
So the next time I put on sad, soothing music
And look out of the window
I’ll ask
“Who will be my story?”