I Want to Come Home, Lord

 

I Want to Come Home, Lord

My heart whispers often, I want to go home,
but I don’t know where home is anymore.
The place I left behind feels hollow,
its walls echo without warmth,
its air no longer carries the scent of belonging.

Grandma’s chair sits empty,
her laughter stolen too soon.
You took her gently, but too quickly,
and the silence she left
has never learned to speak again.

Her daughter—once the shelter of my days—
is no longer the mother I knew.
She has chosen another life,
another man who is not my father,
and I am left wandering between shadows.

So I look upward,
with eyes wet and tired,
and I whisper like a child:

Lord, I want a new home.
Not built of brick or memory,
not tied to names or broken ties,
but one that beats with eternal warmth.

Lord, I want Your home.
Open the gates for me,
let me cross the threshold
where sorrow cannot follow.

I am weary of lost rooms,
of doors that shut against me.
I want the house You built,
where love does not change its face,
where no one leaves too soon,
and no heart calls itself an orphan.

Take my wandering, Lord.
Take this ache that never ends.
I am ready—
I want to come home, Lord.

30 agus 25 sabtu

 

sampah

stanley

perpus mpe malam

allahuakbar

Whispers of Home

 

Whispers of Home

My heart often whispers of going home,
Yet I don’t know where the door may be.
The streets are shadows, empty stone,
No light to guide, no family tree.

The place I knew does not remain,
Its warmth has drifted far from me.
Only echoes of love, and traces of pain,
Float like dust where I used to be.

There is no grandma by the fire,
Her gentle hands no longer near.
She has given her love to another choir,
And left me here with silence and fear.

The chair she sat in feels so cold,
The laughter gone, the comfort thin.
Stories once golden, now untold,
A hollow shell of what had been.

I wander rooms that do not speak,
Their walls are strangers, hard and gray.
My soul feels fragile, small, and weak,
As memories slip and fade away.

God, my heart is crying loud,
It longs for rest, it longs for You.
Among the lost and restless crowd,
I need a place that feels like true.

I do not ask for golden halls,
Nor palaces with endless flame.
Only a home where spirit calls,
A refuge that whispers my name.

Lord, open doors I cannot see,
A house not built of stone or wood.
A dwelling made eternally,
Where every sorrow turns to good.

Your home, O Lord, my soul desires,
A shelter where no night will fall.
Where hearts are warmed by endless fires,
And love is written on each wall.

I’ve lost the maps of earthly land,
But heaven’s path lies in Your hand.
When all I knew has turned to sand,
I’ll walk with You where I can stand.

Let angels sing me toward Your gate,
And guide my weary steps inside.
For only You can recreate
The home for which my tears have cried.

The door is narrow, yet it shines,
A light that calls me from the deep.
Beyond it, endless peace aligns,
And every wound is healed in sleep.

So take me home, O Lord, I pray,
Not to the house I’ve lost below.
But to Your dwelling, far away,
The truest home I’ll ever know.