home.
- Leo Goddard
- Dec 20, 2023
- 1 min read

i found that the word was
suddenly unfamiliar
in my vocabulary.
without the -less at the end
it felt foreign in my mouth,
left a strange aftertaste.
you let me go at the drop of a hat—
pushed me over the edge.
and when i hit my head,
and my memory was fuzzy,
you asked:
who hurt you?
but wait—
wasn’t it you?
wasn’t it you who exiled me?
wasn’t it you who left me
without a home?
actually,
i think my memory is just fine.
you are the ones
who seem to have forgotten.
yes,
everything is coming back to me now.
it was you who left me with
no home,
no security,
nothing.
but you know what?
i forgive you.
isn’t that crazy?
i forgive you.
now you are powerless
because i don’t need you.
i forgive you.
and i’m free.
and with this forgiveness,
came the realization that—
i have a home after all.
in fact,
i have many.
because home isn’t a place—
it’s so much more than that.
home is my own mind.
home is my body.
home is
my partner,
my friends,
my coworkers,
my professors.
home is
reading a book,
cooking a meal,
creating art,
writing a story,
taking a walk.
home is
smiling,
hugging,
kissing,
laughing
loving.
home is wherever i make it.
and there is nothing
you
can do
to take that away from
me.
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