Echoes: Home—Sept 2

 

When you heard me call your name,

I wasn’t whispering just letters—

I was carving a 

shelter out of air,

a place I made for us,

a place called home.

H—

is for the heartbeat

that never gave up on us,

for the hands that held the broken pieces,

for the hope that hums like a hymn

underneath every silence.

O—

is for the open door,

the one that never locked you out,

the circle of arms that make a whole

even when the world

is shattered glass.

It is the oxygen of belonging,

the breath we share when we say:

“You are safe here.”

M—

is for me,

not in selfishness,

but in the promise:

I bring all of myself

so you can rest in the truth

that you don’t walk alone.

It is the mirror of us,

me becoming we,

me becoming more.

E—

is for eternity,

for the endless way love lingers,

like the echo of your name

still alive in my chest.

It is for everything

I couldn’t say until now,

and for the ever after

that starts in this room,

in this breath,

in this home.

So when I call your name,

hear the love - more than sound,

hear the walls I built from words,

hear the floor I laid with faith,

hear the roof stitched from resilience.

Step inside,

and let this place called home

hold you.