Home is me

I have aged here-
In a land I do not call my home.

waiting, longing, missing

When will this missing end?
When will the war end?
When will I go home?

I go down the stairs,
make my self a cup of tea,
a mix of chamomile, mint and cinnamon sticks
just the way my mother makes it.

It’s always tea at moms - with cake

I miss mom.
I miss cake.

I smile - I sigh

find my way to the living room couch,
cover myself with a blanket.

No one is home tonight.

I gaze at the emptiness of the castle,
at the silence of the mansion-
The coldness of the space, started to creep into me.

I hold the cup of tea with both palms of my hand moving it close to my face,
smelling its warmth.
My cat and dog joined in, as if sensing my loneliness.

The questions came back, softer this time.
they came back more like answers, a truth that I needed to hear.

I reached for my journal and started to write.

The war may never end
And the missing may never end
And searching for home will never end
Because home is not something that lives outside of me-
Home is here in my body,
It moves with me wherever I go,
Changes form and shape just like me,
Home is me.

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