I wrote this a few months back when I felt lost and misplaced where I was living, and when nothing seemed to make sense.
By coming across it again in my journal, an insight sparkled. I began to rewrite and adapt it into my current situation.
No matter how much time had passed, it seemed that I was still trying to find the place where I felt at ease, the place where I was meant to be.
Feels like no matter what you have, where, or with whom you are—you might always come across this feeling of not belonging.
What feels like home to you?
This poem might resonate with us, the “homeless” ones—those who are constantly on the go, collecting memories, and leaving hope throughout their wanders, traveling the world on the lookout for a place where we feel complete.
The more I travel and the more I move to new cities, I understand that home is not where you come from, but wherever you feel you belong. In fact, wherever you are, is exactly where you’re meant to be.
All your life struggles will have conspired for you to be in this moment, place, and time. Nothing could have been any different. You are where you are meant to be. Always.
What is home and where to find it?
I find it interesting,
how people keep their bedrooms
in their parent’s home
exactly as they left
because they know
they’ll always come back.
As for me,
I’m like a snail: carrying home on my back
every meaningful thing goes with me anywhere
because I never know
when I’ll be back.
Seeking incessantly a place to chill out and grow old
juggling the feeling “if love is the answer, you’re home”
with the fact, I can choose anywhere to call my own.
Home is forever changeable, you see—
from the evergreen safety of infanthood
to your grandmother’s cake, her jardin,
or your lover’s company, indeed.
The truth is,
I can always find home
in the depths of my own
and the welcoming lands
of wherever I belong.
Home is not a place
it is a feeling.
Author: Alice Lima
Image: Hillary Boles/Flickr
Editor: Sara Kärpänen
Copy Editor: Leah Sugerman