Home.

House is the roof above my head
House is a table and a shelf and a bed
House is the drifting odour of cold porridge
House is the locked door keeping me captive
House is the passage of rooms and more rooms
House is the container bringing me to my doom
House is empty.

Home is the new upholstery I installed
Home is that memorable photo on my wall
Home is the ceiling’s chandelier and carpet
Home is where I gladly return to from the market
Home is a book where I’m the main character
Home is the stage where I’m the main actor
Home is a place without any longing
Home is that familiar scent of belonging
Home isn’t empty
Home is enough.

​-by Aishani Banerjee, 8Ha