Going Home

family portrait

Sometimes I want to go home
to the home I never had
where I will feel safe
loved, even cherished.

Home where people love
each other, help others
less fortunate. I want
to go home where I do
not feel doubt, fear
somehow not quite worthy.

Where is this home of
my longing? Does it exist
only on silver screens, and in
the sorrowful hearts of mankind?

Call me home, oh Silent One
Who stands watch over me.
Light the candle in the window
to illuminate my path to Thee.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Going Home

  1. dykewriter says:

    longing to belong
    wanting it to be true
    that someone watches over me


    • Pat Cegan says:

      Yes, indeed, Someone watches over us. People are so quick to point out all the problems, but there have been so many times in my life where I have see the enormous protection and guidance that I have. It took me years to recognize it, even though it was there all the time. hugs, pat


  2. siggiofmaine says:

    WoW. Incredible poem on a difficult subject that most would like to put into words and THERE THEY ARE ! Thank you !
    Peace and love


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