No Avonlea

Homeless looks different from the inside.
it's not a physical state, I've discovered.
It's not the lack of a roof overhead,
or the absence of a room, bed, pillow,
warmth, cool, clean...
I've found that it's not the need,
Though certainly not forgetting the need,
of the physical.
It's a state of being.
The state of being without a haven.
Haven and home imply something less finite.
They imply a belonging.
A trust and knowing.
That intimate place inside of me that
hungrily calls to those like me,
and those unlike me
for refuge.
It's that feeling I got
when Anne goes back to Avonlea
in the 4th book
and nothing is the same.
My Avonlea is gone.
I've always hated the point in stories
where nowhere is safe.
Living that chapter of my own story
is worse than reading a fictional one.