I don’t think I know what home feels like yet

Maybe home is a lone, weathered bench
Tucked beneath a canopy of trees in Central Park
It might be in the enticing neon of Tokyo
Its electric fingers beckoning me to get lost in them
I see it in my unruly bedroom
In the familiar scent interlaced in the fabric of my sheets

But how would I know, right?

Maybe home is burying my head in the crook of your arm
Letting the steady rhythm of your breathing lull me to sleep
It might be when you laugh at my jokes
Your nose crinkling up, your head thrown back
I see it in the way the very earth holds its breath
Just to listen to you speak

But how would I know, right?

There is comfort
That sits at the end of the sunlit hallway
A familiar soul resting
Against the trademark white and blue

I find warmth in your jacket-clad grasp
And in your groggy, yet reassuring smile
Our voices contain remnants of 2 in the morning
But your eyes still twinkle beneath your heavy eyelids

There is sweetness
In the words that roll off your tongue
And in your unexpected embraces
That melt my heart into honey

I find shelter in the familiar roars of laughter
That ricochet and bounce against the walls
The same ones that have held me
Since my younger and simpler days

There is light
That radiates from your face
A brilliance impossible to ignore, a candle igniting another
And I long to bathe in that heat day after day

I find sorrow in knowing
That it won’t be yours that greets me
In that sunlit hallway anymore
Not for a while, not for a long time

There is hurt
In the way you say “see you soon”
But there is also love in your goodbyes
For I know a warm “hello” is sure to follow

I find peace because I am sure
That there will always be
Other sunlit hallways for us to walk into
But this time I will be holding your hand

We were the kings and queens
Standing tall and proud with our scraped knees and missing teeth
Wielding illustration board swords and construction paper crowns
As we ruled our backyard kingdoms with justice and innocence

We were the greatest heroes that ever lived
We donned our stark-white towel capes and sprinkled baby powder pixie dust on our backs
Our feet never left the pavement
But we soared higher than the cotton candy clouds

We were astronauts orbiting the cold darkness of space
Protected only by our tin foil and cardboard helmets
We spent hours counting every twinkling star and hitching rides on each passing comet
Marveling at the earth with eyes as bright as the nebulae that pierced through the velvet blackness

We were builders, inventors, creators
We built up and tore down skyscrapers with the touch of a hand
We formed galaxies that dripped from our tongues like honey
The earth itself moved along with our bodies that never seemed to tire

But we were only ever seen as children
They told us to stop horsing around, to stop our nonsense
But this “nonsense” was the only thing
That had ever made sense to us

“Grow up.” Those words stung like a slap to the face
“Grow up.” They left sticky teardrop trails on our cheeks
“Grow up.” Repeating over and over again until they made our ears bleed
“Grow up.” Until we had no choice

So we took off our crowns and left them to rust
Crumpled and abandoned at the bottom of our backpacks
Collecting pencil shavings and pad paper debris
Crushed by the weight of our responsibilities

We removed our capes and robes
Dropped our swords and shields
Leaving them to rot in the very closet
Where we sought courage to fight the monsters that we used to be scared of

We traded our tools and scepters
For textbook rifles and good-grade grenades
And our feeble little bodies could barely take the load
We were drafted in a war that we were too young to fight

We tucked away every trace of our childhood
In the pockets of our ripped jeans and underneath our briefcases
We hid them from prying eyes and jeering tongues
Hoping that the blossoms sprouting from our minds wouldn’t be seen through our hats

We lost touch with our past
Like an childhood friend who moved away
And although you never saw him again
You still remembered his name

Why are we so afraid to let our minds run free?
Do we fear the goldfish bowl of judgement so much
That we do our best to make it seem like we have nothing from our past left to show
And we only end up ripping up our imagination to destroy the evidence of its existence

But child, I hope you find bits and pieces of it
Whether they are wedged in between the pages of your favorite book
Or folded neatly in an old shoe box
Or perhaps sitting in your mother’s attic, gathering dust

Maybe you’ll find it in a series of knocks on your door
And I hope you let it in
And listen carefully while it speaks
Let it tell you stories of when you were royalty, a hero, an astronaut, a builder

And when it hands you a crown
A cape, a helmet, a sword
Please don’t be ashamed to use them
Don’t be afraid to remember

But if you tell it that you don’t need those things anymore
And that you no longer need them to dream, that’s okay too
Because growing up never meant letting go of your imagination
It only meant turning it into your reality

I used to be delighted around fire.
Blowing out candy-colored candles,
On carefully crafted cakes,
And I watched as year by year they increased.

I used to be fascinated by fire.
Eyes as bright as the flames I glared at,
Sat in my parents’ bathroom, with my parents’ lighter.
Burning pieces of tissue until the paper was nearly consumed.

I used to be afraid of fire.
Sparks danced and leapt beside our home,
Turning grass into ash, flowers into embers.
3 in the morning could’ve ended up in mourning

I used to be on fire.
Passionate and determined for all the wrong reasons,
And the world doused me in its cold, unforgiving water,
Too damp to light, too late to recover.

I was drawn to temptation like a moth to the flame,
But the fire only singed my wings,
And though the flames made me feel pain,
At least I was feeling something.

I was a charred and hopeless pile of nothing,
Smoke slowly rising from the blaze I could’ve been,
Ashes as dark and blackened as my heart,
Abandoned and pitiful like a used campfire in the woods.

Then I heard the scratch of a match,
The rubbing of rocks,
The scraping of sticks,
And then the crackle of a new and growing fire.

Someone had set me ablaze once again.
Fanning my flames even though He was scorching his fingers,
Made sure I was flourishing, made sure I never went out,
Until I grew bigger and brighter than I had ever been.

I am on fire once again, but only for the One who lit my flames,
Glowing and burning for His glory.
Hoping that one day my embers would spread far and wide enough.
To be able enough to ignite for Him, someone else’s ashes.

Wounded knees, mango trees,
Walking down the same old street,

Eight years old, feeling bold,
A **** on the nose and an awful cold,

Chicken pox, knee-high socks,
Folded letters in a black shoe box,

Ponytails, fairy tales,
Choir practice, don't forget to exhale,

Chapter books, nasty looks,
Never had the chance to cook,

Constant smothers, doting mother,
Shamelessly listening to The Jonas Brothers,

Toothy grins, double chin,
Constantly losing bobby pins,

Stupid drama, Oxford Comma,
No DS for Cooking Mama

Cheeks flushed, prep crush,
I still regret that very much,

Detention, pay attention,
Meet everyone's expectations,

Disappointment, good intent
Nothing that I said was meant,

Growing up, just shut up,
Remember it's okay to mess up,

Years went by, I wonder why,
When did my childhood say goodbye?

You are the pavement
Cracked,
Spat on,
Walked all over,
Yet,
Lifeforms sprout
From in between your broken pieces
Life grows in you still

Sometimes I feel like the word just

Just another fragile snowflake
Embedded in the frost

Just another speck of dust
Resting on a shelf

Just another delicate flower
Embroidered on the tablecloth

Just another little human
Out of 7 billion

But You see me

And You don't just see