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Finally Home

For the Home Writing Contest

By Rachel PrettPublished 3 years ago 2 min read
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It used to be that "Home"

Was a place intangible,

Found only in storybooks and

Words strewn together

To paint pretty pictures

Where my heart and soul lay

Between the lines.

It used to be that "Home"

Was a place I could dream;

Where Elizabeth met her Darcy

And women became secret knights

To protect Something

Worth fighting for.

It used to be that "Home"

Did not exist outside my fingertips

And the words beneath them

Begging to be written.

It used to be that "Home"

Was my agony

And my salvation.

And now

Home

Is the fear of broken walls,

Knocked down to create better foundations.

Home

Is not a dream untouchable

But rather

Difficult conversations

Ended with fierce, comforting hugs.

Home

Is sour gummi worms

Hidden in a duffel bag

And sushi brought home

From the hospital cafeteria.

Home

Is an eyeroll

And glazed over eyes

When I speak politics.

Home

Is trolling a game

Of Ticket to Ride

Just because

You can't win.

Home

Is insecurity

Met with soft kisses

And strong arms.

Home

Is missing you

After just a week

And shoving you away

Because you demand attention.

Home

Is sarcasm

And ruined puns,

"Do you get it?"

Home

Is the lament

Of snores you cannot control

But apologize for anyway

Because I couldn't sleep.

Home

Is truth unabashed

And sometimes painful

But borne together.

Home

Is the denial of perfectionism

But the insistence

Of being "above average".

Home

Is endearing

And enraging

All in the same moment.

Home

Is a rose gold band

With a teardrop stone

Around my finger.

Home

Is a proposal

After a day

Of me dragging you

From monument to monument

All but squealing

From my excitement.

Home

Is rolling your eyes

And calling me a "nerd"

Because I can't help myself.

Home is not a bright, burning fire

But rather

A slow, smoldering ember

Given life by a gentle, pointed breath.

Home

Is every day I am with you

And every moment,

Large or small,

We share.

Home,

Though silly as I feel to admit it,

Is you and only you.

Home is mine

And I am yours.

"Home" is finally real.

love poems
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About the Creator

Rachel Prett

I'm a poet and a fiction writer. I can write quite decent essays, but I'd rather tell stories of the heart and speak with my whole soul.

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