Home (Poem)

Beneath the rumble of the city
There’s a place
That no one sees
No need to ask, to beg, or shout
I can’t show what’s underneath

I can describe
Will try to at least

Eternally under construction
Huge
But I’ll never get lost
Full of hearts
Though, less of people
Where I’m honest at all cost

Underneath the softest blanket
Mixed with tea
And candlelight
Covered by the faintest whisper
Lies a place
In which I reside

– Katrin Mess –

Cover image by Beto Galetto


What makes a home? For you personally.

Is it a place? A feeling? Maybe a scent or a sound? What if you were to close your eyes and think of home, what would you see?

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