Anthology

Lineage

What does it mean

To have roots?

To have home

To be held back?

Is it good?

Is it safe?

How does one go about,

Holding their space?

What do you do when the storm comes?

When the rain pounds and winds howl?

Where does home go?

I left the soil that was to be mine

The loam, the memory

The home, the history

The pride, the vanity

The prestige, the fragility

I was meant to grow there

To be planted, rooted, firm

But I was no tree, no shrub

I ran

Far

Away

And

Never looked back