Sweet Home
Only when my soul frees itself would I say: I have reached my destination.
I can’t wait to reach Home, the only place my lungs allow air to get inside.
Home is where I feel light and careless and where my shoulders can relax.
Home where my boys left their memories, laughter, and cries, where they experienced their first love, and where they cried asking for help; it is there in their rooms and closets.
Home is where I can scream and shout shamelessly.
Home where I feel that walls talk to me, listen, and care.
Home is where my heart can rest, my eyes can shut, and my brain can function.
The smell of the sage occupies the empty spaces of the rooms.
When I miss my home, when it is lost, I only need to close my eyes and take an intense breath before I find it and get it back.
My home is settling in my soul, where instead of sheltering my soul, it nestled in there safely. I can feel it only when I lose all my senses and stop fighting.
The most peaceful place where I can only smile is where everything physically vanishes.
Only when my soul frees itself would I say: I have reached my destination.
Some call it the end, but I call it the beginning! A home sweet home.
Dana Obeid