For the Wanderers.

When I knock on the door, my known life is over. I am close to tears.

A new placement; a new normal—five times a year.

Never solid, but always consistent.

Fluidity is the only constant; always moving but never stagnant.

A tween waiting. Mussed, but trying to look my best. Full of hope.

This will be it. Maybe this time I’ll avoid the “Nope.”

The last placement they let me watch tv all the time!

I was alone in the repeat, which was better than the reality: No place is mine.

Stewing in silence fills the frantic voices in my head.

Following moments hyped with emotions make my brain explode.

Laughter, tears, screaming, doubt. They all live in that zone.

Am I ever going to find a place, a family that will care just for me?

My ninth placement in half as many years—a wandering life growing easy.

Foster mom helps me make brownies and popcorn

And we dive into a movie marathon. Not even my birthday! What’s going on?

Bike rides and stargazing nights. I feel safety instead of dread.

So I kick a kid for calling me a nasty name. I get suspended…again.

Foster mom and me have it out ‘cause I threaten to run like the wind.

I scream at her as loud as I ever have.

Words leave my mouth and I push away the love.

I have to keep the pattern; maintain my consistency.

It’s all I have. I can only protect me.

I will then. Whatever it takes to prove that I can make it; take it alone!

She hugs me and I try to resist. Can I finally call this home?

I don’t want to. But I do. I see her expectations and know I can’t reach.

Household chores and making mistakes. Creating new experiences. Delivering chaos.

Blaring music and glaring at her when I’m mad. Nothing can make me worthy. Is it true?

Home is where the crazy, messed up, imperfect, frustrated, lost people meet.

And that’s where I am; full of love. I can finally rest my wandering feet!