A place called home

There is a restless feeling under my skin
An itch that makes me want to claw till
I bleed raw and find what’s hiding within
A void I walk around with pulling me down
With its weight and hollowness that gnaws
In search of peace I have traveled worlds
A place I could call home to be myself
Where I could read and scribble freely
A sanctuary that blankets me in its arms
Letting me ramble on eccentric issues
That warmth which would make me smile
And forget the burdens of the world not
Just a roof to live under but a heart that
Will reach out and pick mine apart rightly
Enough strength to share the weight of
The world to succeed and survive madness
But between chattering crowds and houses
The emptiness inside grows as I fail to
Find what could be my “Querencia


Note: Querencia is a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you’re your most authentic self.