They say home is where your heart is
I was always confused by this
For if it is really true
And all the homes I ever knew
Are still in my heart,
Though I depart
Where do I call home?
And what if today
Someone does say
Where are you from?
From where do I come?
Should I say where I stay?
With noisy beach and bay
Should I say where I was born?
With warm hearts and feed-corn
Should I say what’s on my passport?
Though I only come by airport
Every two or three years
With tales that shock the ears
But to me seem like home
For they’re all I’ve ever known
Home, maybe a memory, hardly a place
Home, maybe a smile on friendly a face
Home, maybe a familiar and warm taste
Home, maybe a feeling, maybe a suitcase
Home, maybe a story told by the fireplace
Home, such a mysterious word
To which I cannot seem to find the password
So simple to some, so hard for others
Maybe it’s family, sisters, and brothers
Whatever it is I hope it finds me someday
In a comfortable place, where I can finally stay
And as I enter the house and kick of my shoes
Listen to the TV, someone’s watching the news
I can whisper quietly with no one near
“Home sweet home, at last is here.”
About the Poet:
My name is Anna J. Stone. I’m 14 and this is my 3rd year with TPS. I usually write songs and short stories or draw, but I thought this story would be best told by poem. I’m an American citizen but I was born in Malatya, Turkey and lived there for 12 years. I now live in Batumi, Georgia (the country). I’ve always struggled with defining home and living somewhere that didn’t match my face as well as feeling like a foreigner when I am “home.” I wrote this piece for my fellow TCK’s and everyone who struggles with answering questions like: “Where are you from?” I hope that this piece comforts those of you who can relate.