Homeless, I gave you a home.
Hungry, I gave you food.
Lonely, I gave you family.
Nameless, I named you Daughter.
You gave me grandchildren.
Then you left.
Far away for far too long.
My heart on your sleeve.
He crushed your spirit.
He denied your worthiness.
He stole your youth.
Homesick, I brought you home.
Poor, I gave you support.
Lost, I gave you roots.
Heartbroken, I gave you my heart.
Your children grew in love.
My love.
My home was their home,
Your home.
The table is full, the beds are warm,
Your children know just one home.
Again, you leave.
And they must leave.
Disruption, confusion, pain.
Our home is crumbling,
Your children are crying,
I am grieving.
Again, you leave.
Will you always leave — everyone?
