A poem by Isabelle Sorrells

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Where is there to run to

When you are sick for home,

Even when

You are already there?

It is an unmistakable pang in the gut and the heart.

So what home are you missing?

Maybe it isn’t home you long for,

But what awaits beyond.

Is this homesickness, or sickness of home?

And are you ready for the answer?

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