Home feels like letting your belly breathe after you unzip your jeans.
Home feels like seeing a glance and knowing exactly what it means.
Home feels like letting yourself cry and tears flow
over what some people may say are
insignificant things.
Home feels like being seen even when you know you’re all alone.
Home feels like when I’m on my knees asking God to please help me.
Home feels real when a lot of things don’t.
I like being home, because I feel like my own.
--Jasmin S., Adult