Visiting Home

Feb 04, 2026

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We're now nomads with no home,
shoving our souls back into place,
into clothes we have outgrown, 
past the adult on our face.

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The edges aren’t seamless 
the hole used to be mine 
but we’ve outgrown piggybacks 
and dictated bedtimes.

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Shove your soul back in, 
you'll find cracks in the façade 
of painted idol parents 
who knew more than God.

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Shove it in tightly near 
expectations unfulfilled 
and the sudden re-stirring 
of teenaged free will.

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Just long enough to remember 
what her pancakes taste like, 
and careful kisses on cheeks,
and eyes checking in the night.

Rosie Hall