A House Is Not a Home
I want to go home —
my heart aches for belonging.
But where is home?
Can a man truly be homeless?
I take flight, running,
to the place I once called mine.
But the gates refuse to let me past —
for a house is not a home.
I knock and pound upon the door,
yet no one comes to answer.
I hear their laughter echo within —
for a house is not a home.
Painfully it dawns on me,
I’m not welcome where I was born.
Perhaps it’s time to rise from the ashes,
Find a heart that will love my weary soul,
and build — not just a house, but a home.
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