It's surprising how we know, That something, someone, Is going to be there even when we don't look? It's like walking in the same old...

Every grief leads me to that one grief, And makes me think, If the home was still there, Maybe it would be a little less sad than today....

Climbing down the spiral stairs, Of a place I've never been before, I hear laughter and conversations, At every step like it's home for...

If you stop me randomly on the road, And ask me where I live, I will, for a fact, Say your address, And then, sadly, Correct myself....

We live in an old, rustic, two story apartment building with a banyan tree in the front yard. This building and this tree has seen more...

From where do these thoughts come, And why do they make themselves feel home in my mind? How do they find room in an already cramped...

The door of my house is open, And I should wake up and go check, If it really is? Don't you see how consciously, I'm still dreaming, Of...

I relate to the Welsh word hiraeth a lot today. Hiraeth is the deep longing for something. Something that isn't home but feels like home....

I'm finding my way to your home, Maybe it's a place you grew up, Maybe it's somewhere you found yourself, Maybe it's draped in sunlight,...

When I say I miss home, I mean, I don't miss the four walls and the roof that held me safe but I miss how the November setting sun casted...

Honestly, I thought I'll probably love it a little when I come back after staying away for 13 odd days. Anyway, I sometimes become...

"These borders that are built, Of faith, humanity and hope, Will crumble one day, And when that day arrives, There'll be no place to call...