Home is no longer home. Home is not a place that smells like nurture and warm memories.Home brings me an unrooting feeling where the many emotions smell like mud.Home brings this unwelcome feeling, it’s where my vulnerability became a shield for any proximity of kindly love. Home is not lovely when it outgrows you, it’s like a sword that splits your season. Home is no longer the place where unconditional love was rooted, it’s a place that feels unwelcome. The zero reciprocity of kindness brings the debt of my lineage to face me. When Home doesn’t feel like home, it’s like the shadow of grief sticks to me, to remind me of all the innocent and lovely versions that have died through my silence. Home reminds me of love yet feels like bitterness and rejection, it’s a reminder that it’s time to move on alone. When isolation and silence feel like home then it no longer holds space for your heart, nor for your voice. It has become a house where the corners will hold space to gather the river of my emotions. With so many mixed emotions of gratitude and also brokenness, I hold space for the many lessons that I am here to learn. I vow to walk with my heart open to circulate the many emotions and to accept the new ones. I have become a guest or what even feels like an intruder in a home that once held me. I am becoming a guest of a house that moved faster than me, where the foundation was rebuilt, but my root was shaken. Where my lineage gets louder but my voice becomes silent. These moments of silence and acceptance bring forward the version of me open to re-root and see the possibilities. These walls bring the grief of a daughter, sister, granddaughter, and friend, they have been confided to mourn the many versions that are no longer welcomed. The silent tears nurture the land to support and bloom for the lineage to come. It is the grief that unlocks the heart, that merges with the rivers to integrate into the water of possibilities. It is the version, that learned to root and unroot with harmony so growth can happen. To look onto the horizon to accept the home that will hold me. To allow me space to expand and grieve the home that no longer holds me. As tears unravel each emotion like ruthless waves, I understand. Home is where my cycle starts and patterns. Home is the safe ground where I face all stages of my cycle. Home knows my deepest fear, weakness, and trigger points. Home is where my cycle ends. Home is where the dirt of the New Pathway has already been laid out on the ground. I am the Home that will color and glow the path as I move holding my head high and my heart open. With my back straight, and tall, the scars of home dry and the sunshine glows throw me. Home is overcoming and accepting. Sitting at home I see my versions of growth, the many lessons I master, and the catalyst for what is to come.
