Home
I want to go home.
And I don’t mean my house,
Because that’s all it is,
A house,
My house,
But not my home.
I don’t know if home is a person,
And I haven’t found that person.
I don’t know if home is a feeling,
And I don’t know how to feel it,
But I want to go home.
I want to find a place where I’m safe,
Where I’m heard.
I want to find a place where I feel like I belong,
Where I matter,
Where I don’t feel like this disconnected person,
Disconnected from friends,
From family,
From everybody around me.
I feel like it’s just me.
I can be in a room full of people,
And it’s still just me.
I want to go home,
But I feel like I’m just floating,
Not like a weightless floating,
Not like a feather floating.
Floating is heavier than you think.
It’s heavy.
I want to go home,
But I don’t know where that is.
I want to find home,
Or know how to make it.
The closest I get to home is within a book.
The closest I get to family are the characters bound to the pages of these books.
I want to find home.
And not just read what home could be.
I want to experience it.
Copyright © Gl Bailey | Year Posted 2022
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