After four years, I feel as if I’ve done my time. 

The roar of the interstate I now identify as home. 

The brown grasses that crunch beneath my boots. 


And yet, it still doesn’t feel like home. It doesn’t feel like home. It doesn’t feel like a place I want to come back to. 

Where am I? Where is my home? 

It’s not here. 

It’s never been here.

But the home I once knew is gone. Erased. 

I’m lost. My soul, lost.

The desolate miles of desert sagebrush mirrors my heart, empty. 

I turn my face towards the bitter wind. It chafes my cheeks and snowflakes sting my skin. 

But it’s all I can feel. I want to feel something. Anything. 



Don’t hold your breath, breathe with me. Focus in your mind.. One. Two. Three.

I will always protect you, I will always be here. Don’t cry, don’t be afraid, don’t worry my dear. 

When your world feels unstable; like a splitting ice shelf. I will always keep you safe, even from your own self.