dear home,

i’m sorry. for everything. wholeheartedly. i’m sorry for leaving you with empty space i felt uneasy filling. for doubting you were my scripted setting. for losing faith that you could fully foster me. for getting too comfortable, falling victim to fickle feelings. for getting caught in the hypnosis of distance. for taking your endless roads for granted when they cradled me along. i’m sorry i didn’t listen when they said light is crucial to grow. and not the artificial kind i’ve come to know. i don’t love what i left you for like i thought i would. now i’m slowly learning a lesson in choosing rash choices. you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. some cliches are that way for a reason. but best believe i’m drenched in the karma of leaving you in the embers. i’m burning too but in other worse ways. you see, consequence caught up to me. it’s coarsened my skin and forces fake smiles. it lodges pits in my guts and steals lustre from thoughts. i’ve suffered. i deserve it. but make it not for nothing. because i miss your aura. i miss your seas. i miss the way we moved with ease. i don’t know a god, but i pray to the sky, that you haven’t forgotten those paramount nights. where we made memoirs out of nothing more than time. the moments we drank each other in. i soaked in your sun, and you in my skin. dear, dear home, please take me back. if you haven’t filled my space with a more steady heart, we can rework our tempos or just restart. it’s a tough sell, i know, but i’m ready to evolve. be my sunstone. be my backbone. be a part of me in any way.  i’ll turn my insides to clay to be what you need. whatever it is just please, please, please.

love,
a misplaced migrant

When you're homesick,
you should go outside and close your eyes.
Then look up into the night,
see all the clouds in the same blue sky.

*It feels like home doesn't it?

Ever since I was young I always longed for home
Was it in a tall oak tree looking over the hill country
In a muddy pasture with horses
A small condo with a view of a bustling street
Or a large house in the suburbs

Each day chasing every tide.
Each wave languidly crashing  over my hair as it smells of sea salt and cold waters.
The dark clouds that take up the sky, full of mysteries and the crisp air.
Or maybe in a large empty field  with no one near, yellow and orange flowers around me as the sun beats down on my tan shoulders.

Maybe, in the bright star of Sirius, light years way.
Maybe in the cold rain dripping down my car window
Maybe in the barren trees.
Maybe in the warm dusty desert.
Maybe in the green mist of the Amazon
Or the heavy air of the Himalayans.

I’ll tell you something it’s not here.

You called again last night
Dusk was slumped over the window frames
and my eyes had adjusted accordingly

You were a mirage of poorly put together pixels framed by the grey of your bedroom walls
Lit by your digital enthusiasm

“how are you?”

I tell you that I’m fine
You ask about school
my friends
my last training session
Echo chambers of average

“I think I’ll be home next week,”

I tell you that’s great
I don’t say much else

I don’t tell you about the quiet that will come when we hang up
How the silence slaps the stone of the brick house you used to hold on both your shoulders because mine were still too weak to take the weight

“you should turn the lights on,”

You tell me you miss me
To give our dog your hug
The phone line whispers crackles while I wait for you to finish

“be nice to mum and dad, okay?”

crackle

“don’t stay up too late,”

crackle

“love you, I’ll see you soon.”

I mimic your message
Let the distance readjust
Hum the note the speaker makes when your voice has been removed from the orchestra

The lights stay off
The curtains still open
I sit in your familiar absence once again

Waiting for the light
To turn back home