Home?



Everything and everyone

Can be your house

But only a few

At times, just one—can be your home.


This home built herself

With love, sacrifices, pain, and untold stories.


This home carried everyone

Stayed strong

Despite suffering and happiness.

Though it was heavy

She never left them halfway.


Amidst those so-called people

Pointing at what she held

Calling it useless

She stood for them

Because she knew

They would bring happiness.

As she was the one

Who brought them into her

Tiny world


This home

Would never sleep

If the people in it

Didn’t eat

Didn’t sleep

Didn’t smile.


This home

Knows nothing other than

Forgiving and welcoming her people

Like children again

Wrapping them in her arms.


But

The people in it

Who can walk away easily

Who can stop calling her home

And in her absence

Turn everything into just a house

And the sad part is—

They

Never realise it at all.


But this home…

—our mothers

Even in their dreams

Can never turn into a house

Can never ignore

Alienate

Or throw away

Her people

And would never say,

“you don’t belong here.”

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