My Home
I had a warm place to call my own, my home. With bricks of comfort and walls of happiness. Home. A place to leave all your masks and all your anxieties. A place that mends you, fixes you, helps you cry and laugh a little. When anxiety grapples with your throat and life leaves your body through fingertips and toes, your home helps you crawl.
This world out there, is a bitter bitter place. This world out there also houses your home. Your home that helps you swallow the bitterness and cut through the dense dark days of despair.
My home. A tender tender place which made me strong. Where every sip of coffee reminds me of the borrowed time. Time that is passing. Time that is borrowed. From someone, somewhere, but borrowed.
One second! You were part of my home, right? I’m sure you were. Then how can I not remember how home was with you? But you were my home. With Coke Studio and Marquez by your side, you kept me sane? Why then can I not recall the scent of your hands and the warmth of your cold fingers? And wait, I see something blurred too, like a twisted plot of your favourite story; your face. I see your anxieties and your nervousness on your palm. And how you wiped them off with your handkerchief. Why then can I not see the brave bold you? The smile on your eyes? It was always there, right?
When home becomes a bitter world, housed in a bitter world. When sanity drives you insane, like a gaze fixed nowhere. So you try and try to focus on nothing. I’m finding my lost pieces, in the people of my home. How else do we solve the puzzles of our lives? One piece here, the smaller one there. My last piece is missing, because you took it away. Breath on fire, throat gone sore. When lungs refuse to breathe and ribs decide to crack. Your skin melts away and screams go silent. You were there to fix me, ‘yellow’ and ‘clocks’? Where are the ‘ghosts’ of our home? I remember my home, this isn’t my home. The walls are the same, bricks of comfort. I’m still struggling, swaddling between doors and windows. This is my home, this isn’t my home. But this is my home, you aren’t my home.
I’ll find the piece and complete the puzzle. I will. I will. I will.
