Afterall, It’s Home

A window welcoming wind, a door demystifying dim; the corners standing them, the bodies building the corners; they named it Haven as if it is for others When the sky cry before the threshold, it is deemed to be, it is ought to be -- a sanctuary

But recall the long gone yesterday today, when with somebody she ran away and everyday he reeks of alcohol while you study. Poor toddler -- deprived of her warmth in your tiny hand. It’s not creeping out as Edgar cried -- the grains of the golden sand. Hoping for home outside the house, you venture across strange land. Dangling on broken branches, how would you fix the rotten roots? Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way farther from this tree. But the tied strings pulled you back stronger, never set you free. Your footsteps rejoices the wind and the birds. Giggling toddler on his arm and longing eyes to yours is cast Your chest clenched, eyes blurred but clear now that -- you’re home, at last

PHOTO | ERICO C. CALUMBA