By Nathalie Alcime

Home
A celebrated word that’s suppose to bring hope;
But, instead, invites emptiness and pain.
A ray of shadow and tormented cries
Of confused brokenness with repeated offenses that often strikes!
Fear; no affection.
Is this supposed to be home?

Home
A place, plugged in fear and tuned out tranquility
All for the sake of bitterness and oppression that defined their own identity
Is there any solace? Can the candlelights bring peace in the darkness?

Alas! My heart filled with distant memories binding me to my limitations of grief.
A sorrow rooted deep in the creases of my soul,
A lifeless home torn by deception.
What is perception? What is reality?
Is home a figment of my imagination?
Is it a delightful tale society tells around the holidays?

Is it a place? Is it a person? A group of people?
Is it a vision? Is it the future? Is it a state of mind or being?

Home transforms itself to what the host needs.
But, it’s one’s personal choice of what that can be.
Home can be a safe haven
Or it can be a carrier of bad news.
Choose wisely,
Because in the end, it shapes who we are.