Sanctuary City



I figured out where my home is when I got here,

It’s in a safe and secure hug in a secret room that only we call secret.

In arms that feel like heaven. Making it impossible to wake up. 

Meaning that it was possible to fall asleep.

It’s a grin at the GRIND as I draw more strange things on your cups and bags.

It’s bounding down to the boathouse to be idiots by the water.

It’s a sigh on the Sommer couch-bed, next to the warm fire.

It’s arms wrapped around each other all night by the table, 

Sharing stories new and old of times had and to be had

It’s when I cross that Bridge, following in billions of footsteps across its bent boards,

It’s my very own sanctuary.

When everyday of your life you’ve been shown a firm hand, maybe the passion behind a soft, gentle, warm, and nice embrace is all that my mind will understand of what it means when you are loved and what home should have always been.

But there are cracks in the sanctuary that smother me in sunlight

As I sit in this house

Of wood and stone

I feel that it is no longer as much like home as I need it to be

Somehow I have found the home 

I have been searching for since I was young,

somehow I have found this home

inside other human beings and

I never felt more alive when I am around them.