When it hits

It comes when you least expect it.
Sometimes months ahead.
Sometimes hours.
But it always hits, that you can count on.

The feeling of wanting to go home,
mixed with the feeling of not knowing when you will come back.
The feeling of finally moving on,
mixed with the feeling of never wanting to leave.

It comes when you least expect it.
And when it hits.
It hits you hard.

Going home

She looks at the sun. How it warms her heart. She turns her head, takes in the view. Puts a sad smile on her face.

She's leaving.

She breaths the air. How familiar it feels in her lungs. She lets the air out, takes in the view. With a feeling of a drizzling summer rain.

She's going home.

Stop

Silently they walked across the sea.
Trying to find their way home.
Wandering souls, carrying the burden of wisdom.

Quietly they stepped onto land.
Seeking their path to belonging.
Leaving fire and storm behind.

Loudly they knock on your door.
Wishing for nothing but justice.
Hoping for nothing but life.

Soon they will scream.
As their number grows stronger.
As the crusades continue.
Only you have the power to help them.
The wandering souls.