I want to go home but I don’t know where home is..
Is it the one floor house with the yellow leaves and the wide terrace?
Or is the gray stone house with grass and pink flowers to greet,
Is where Lucas’s bark follow?
Or where my grandparents feet touches,
Is it where the rain touches the soil?
Or is it where my mother sits with her indifference,
Is it where my father toils behind piles of work?
Or is it on an edge of a cliff where my heart thunders to be,
Is it where my hands tremble to touch?
Or is it under the waves of the roaring sea,
Or is it in a garden of fruitful trees?
I do not know what this means,
Some say the home is where the heart is,
But honestly, I do not know where my heart is either.