A Place Called Home

The greatest gift my parents gave to me
Wasn’t wrapped in ribbons, nor beneath a tree
It was space - safe, sacred, free.
A quiet room within their hearts
Where I could simply be.

No judgement hung in the warm air,
No expectations, no silent glare
Just voices calm, an open door,
Just love that asked for nothing more
Than that I learn to trust my core.

They knew the world would bruise and bite,
That not all battles come with light.
So they armored me in gentleness,
In truth, in grace, in soft finesse,
A strength so deep, it fears no test.

My father, fierce in quiet might,
A shield of justice, clear and bright.
He taught me “right” is never loud,
But rooted firm, not swayed by crowd
And kindness wears no prideful shroud.

My mother watched with tender eyes,
For joy to bloom, for spirit to rise.
In a world that seeks to cage and mold,
She urged me always to be bold,
A quiet fire with a heart of gold.

They spoke in gestures, big and small,
Of dreams, of doubts, they heard them all.
They never told me who to be,
They only helped me learn to see
The endless worth deep within me.

I owe them more than words can show
My calm in storms, my steady glow.
They're roots that hold, the wind that guides,
With selfless hearts and knowing eyes.
Their love and strength in me abide.

And as I stand, proud and whole,
I know their hands shaped my soul.
No treasure greater could there be
Than to be born from love so free
To be of them, and still just me.