Reaching out to a dream-world
The illusion shatters.
Reality cuts into me like glass shards
To see bodies curled
Their clothes mere tatters
Truth hits like a rock, hard
The blessed ones hold baby boys and girls
But do not see that we matter.
Do they not see our hands, charred?
To have a home, to be that lucky – it’s as though you’ve won the lottery. You have a safe place to live. You don’t have to do so much hard work every day just for food and drink. You don’t fear for your life and your loved ones’ lives. You are the ‘blessed ones’, who cannot imagine so harsh of a world. Maybe you care, but what does it matter if not all of us will let our voices be heard and give the homeless a chance? To not have a home, to suffer such hardships, must feel like torment. After all, home is a place where you can afford to be careless and happy. Home is where you feel love and give love and peace, without feeling terror every day that you might lose everything. Home is peaceful, and so much more. Home is the little things that we don’t even notice, like the comforting flavour of your toothpaste, or the smooth texture of your dinner table. As the saying goes, you don’t know what you have until you’ve lost it. It’s not just you, I take my home for granted. My classmates may take their homes for granted. My family may take our home for granted. But if we take a moment to be grateful and to give to those who deserve it, maybe we can take the first step in a brand new world: for home is love.