Redefining Home
Now, I am “homeless and unaccompanied,”
But these shallow words are borrowed, presumptive.
Displacement has brought support and security.
Such contradiction is deceptive,
But it is no mistake, and I have no regrets.
A whim, a risk, a chance
To leave the known and begin again.
Now I am resilient and strong,
These words I have earned.
Then, I lived with a man called my father
In a place called home:
A dilapidated trailer bursting at the seams to conceal
The broken sink, the cracked bathtub, constantly threatening to collapse
As portions of the flimsy floors and concave ceiling already had,
The putrid smell of neglect,
The layers of dirt and decay too stubborn to be removed
Seeped into moldy walls from years of inattention.
The Manipulation of a woman whose life was motherhood
Whose heart was filled with love for her children, for me;
Whose mind was ill with addiction and something less explicable;
Whose love I felt through cracks in the chaos;
Manipulation by a man whose life is a trail of estranged children
Whose heart is hardened, corrupted by love of self
Whose mind is weakening with age
Whose power lies in controlling the weak.
My mother would be absent for weeks, sometimes months at a time
Forgotten by my father in some mental hospital, detention center
Or seedy shack with fair-weather friends who disappeared with the high.
I remained with my father for two years after her death;
I wanted to hold onto everything that she touched,
Desperately trying to keep intact the world graced by her eyes
Instead I saw her influence confined into a box, discarded
Only salvaged tatters of memories linger.
Alone in the hazel sea
With no relief from the piercing blue sky
I could only focus on distraction:
Freedom, or something like it,
Blissful, dead-end sedatives,
Numbing instead of healing.
Gone for days at a time,
My father only taking notice
When the fridge became empty
Or his dirty laundry was piled too high.
Now, I have found sanctuary
With my mother’s family who have become my own.
I was accepted immediately with open arms
By my aunt, the kindest, most headstrong woman I know
Who took me shopping for clothes,
Something so simple,
Essential, but foreign to me;
By my uncle with a compassionate, jovial heart
Who bought me grape juice when I mentioned it was my favorite,
By my cousins who accepted me as a sibling and a friend.
Gestures of normality, thoughtfulness, and welcoming
Like the illumination of dawn after insufferable night.
Now, I live with my family in a charming little home on fourteenth street
With functional plumbing, sturdy walls,
And the simplicity of cleanliness.
All of which I will never take for granted.
Change has come abruptly, unusually, but fortunately
And I have and will embrace it.
Home is no longer a source of shame or hesitation,
But brings pride and elation.
I am resilient, strong, and lucky as hell
To have had a second chance at family
Who has guided, supported, and fought alongside me
To plan a future brighter than my past.