There is no cheerful clatter of pans, or old Beatles records spinning in the living room. No warm cinnamon smell fills the air – only burnt coffee. For a moment, I'm half expecting Papa to swoop ... [+]
I was greeted to this campus
With “Welcome home”
So many times
That I naively assumed
I was safe to be myself.
I was told “You belong”
And I believed it,
Until I was “welcomed” with bitter stares,
Silently asking: “Why are you here?”,
“What could you have to offer?”
Determined to provide answers,
I buried myself deep in work
Seeking the validation
I realized I never needed.
A home is never spoken into existence,
it’s fostered over time.
I decided I would make my own
Like a robin building it’s nest,
Carefully tending to each twig,
Preparing for the weathering storms of spring
