Home can be anywhere
It's in the joy that we share
They came and knocked on my door
“This is not your home anymore”
Possessions packed and key left
Classic victims of home theft
It ripped my heart to shreds
We didn’t even have our beds
How could I even go on?
All that was good now gone
Four tiny humans to live for
I’ll give you a home, I swore
Chained heart and acid soul
Despair swallowed me whole
The fog lifted so I could see
Home was always here with me
For home is more than a place
It’s in my husband’s embrace
Home is where my children are
Where love glows like a star
It’s in the joy that we share
Home can be anywhere
About the Creator
Britt Blomster
I'm a writer, poet, storyteller and dreamer. I'm inspired by the world around me and channel that into my writing.
E-mail: [email protected]
Keep reading
More stories from Britt Blomster and writers in Poets and other communities.
Inshallah
Istanbul is a city bristling with life, a place where past and present, sacred and profane, intertwine under the watchful gaze of the Sultan Ahmet Mosque. As I explore this crossroads of cultures with Maya, my nine-year-old niece and the daughter of my late brother-in-law Frank, and my wife Nadia, Frank's sister, I find myself on a journey not just through Istanbul's history, but also into the depths of my own beliefs. Staying with Maya and her mother Elvan, my sister-in-law, I begin to see the city anew through their eyes, and to understand why James Baldwin said it "revived" him.
By Geoffrey Philp 5 days ago in Wander
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.