This is the house that raises me
And I'm going to burn it down
What is a home
If not the first place you learn to run from?
You have to bite the hand that starves you
Slap the face that wounds you
Why does He place me on this earthly ground
Where I find no welcome sound?
Why am I even here for
Slowly drown from longing for more
Humans made to love, it's true
Yet mine's deemed a sin to pursue
Is it too much, this desire prolonged?
To find a place where I belong?
YOU ARE READING
There's a Crack in Everything That's How the Light Gets in
Poetry"The wound is the place where the Light enters you." - Rumi
