Lost and not found

I thought I was almost home. That I had found my place. That I had found a place within my place.

Then the rain came. With it, the wind. With the wind, the storm. With the storm, the loss of shelter. Without the shelter I had no safe place. No place that would stand ground against the wear and tear that is life and everyday battles. Battles that go on for too long. That doesn't allow time to stop and breathe.

I had to bow my head against the wind. Looking at the ground. Not taking my eyes off the ground.

Until I could feel the harbour getting close. Getting within reach, within reality. It wasn't just a vague line, I could see rays of sunshine bring out the colours, hear sounds, the smells. All the things that were familiar. I would soon be there.

One phone call with news turned the harbour into a destination of worry, of pain, the pain of loosing someone that wasn't suppose be lost already.

The feeling of home was burdened of sorrow. My chance to breathe and charge was lost, before I had the chance to grab it. Energy I didn't have was used. Energy I needed was lost.

I came back, feeling the same way as before I left. Filled with sadness. Sadness I hoped would've been eased before I came back.

I came back, not knowing where I belong. Again. Feeling lonely with people around me.

Missing support. Missing love. Missing consolidation. Missing myself.