Baggage

I am homesick for a home I've never known

One Warm life sunflowers and calm like a southern creek

A sanctuary of safety and acceptance

I am not homesikck for the homes that I have dwelled in

For the lives that I have lived in and the spaces I have shrank to stop existing within

I do not pine for the anger, the hostility

The abuse

I am not homesick for the anxiety I carry like an overstuffed backpack bursting at the seams

I do not wish for the knowledge I have of what furious footsteps feel like in my core

It is not the slammed doors, broken dishes, or incensed words for which I long

I wish for peace and comfort and ease

Though I carry this haggard, bruised and battered luggage

I fear it is not a home for which I will cease to ache