Dear Home

Erstwhile, there once was a girl who struggled to remember the home she had forgotten about. I tell the story of this nameless girl. Through walls of murky darkness, she walks against the tides of ebony, damp with responsibility and helpless agony. With every thud of rain, the dark clouds thicken against the struggling storm. She feels lost, forlorn, forgotten. She knows that losing is part of gaining. And yet, she still feels like a fake diamond, gullible and worth dearly for her outsides. She teeters with the inky black waves, holding hopelessly onto balance. Among the darkness of swirling clouds and restless charcoal sea, She spots a faint glimmer of drained light. A dark shadow looms over it, obstructing the remainder of the only illumination. The devil behind all acts. She closed her eyes and decried wings of a great bird reaching towards her, And then the light comes. The light carries her up, up, and away from the darkness into a chamber of imagination. Above, soaring beneath the bird's wings, she overlooks the storm she had been trapped in. She leaned into the saffron-roseate tinted sky. The straining images of the raven tides dwindled slightly from her mind. When she looks up, the bird seems to disappear slowly with the pictures. Without the storm, the ribbon of rainbow light among the sky isn't bright. With every stolen nightmare, a piece of dreams is taken, too. The bird nudged her gently on her shoulder, and disappeared. Birds were taught to fly with persistent practice. They were small, yet strong. Perhaps what she needed was simply to stay strong. It reminded her of how to fly. How to soar freely across the sea of darkness, Without falling in. There’s no going back down, with the bright encouragement shining down on the dark ocean. But the waves still lapped, strong, below her little bubble of safety. As the colours of sunset dissolved into midnight blue, images of the storm flashed before her eyes yet again. She crumpled into a ball in the sky, struggling to keep them away. Struggling to keep afloat. Without the bird, the world seems to sink. And suddenly, She's falling. Down, down, down. She closes her eyes, golden tears staining a trail behind them. Then, she sees the bird. A short burst of bright white illumination stretches around her. It swivels and swirls around her in thin ribbons of light as she falls. They soon all come back together in one spot: Her heart. Suddenly, it doesn't seem so dark anymore. She is free. Although she may not always be in the light, she knows she can handle the dark. She knows that she only has to remember there is light anywhere you look, Even if it is hidden. She is safe. The bird flaps its wings gently before perching on the bed frame. A light wind flurries on her disheveled hair. Her resting eyes flutter ever so lightly. She smiles. She is home. But that is not the end. I don’t believe in endings. I had thought that if something difficult came about, Everything would come crashing down. But after all these years, I remained afloat, Because there is always one place that won’t ever let go, no matter what. A place that remains in my heart and encases me in a sphere of protection, While teaching me heavy, yet powerful lessons. Although sometimes, that knowledge requires sacrifice, It always comes back to me. So, Dear home, I don’t believe you are a place. Nor do I believe you are a person or a thing. You are flexible, Changing, shifting from one to another, Though yet everything you do- Your purpose, your meaning- Remains the same… And these meanings, these purposes Will bring us home.