Hometown

Feels right to talk about it now.
Now that we're here, at home,
unable to go out, confined.
I'm at my hometown.
It's funny how many things a place can be at once.
It's quiet, but alive and noisy.
It's big and green, but I just hold the same four walls.
It's homely, but at times it makes me anxious.
It's spacious, but I feel trapped (and it's not by the quarantine).
It's a safe space and hell at the same time.
It's a memory. Good ones, bad ones.
It's a constant reminder of my life,
of my family, of life.
I'm grateful.
But my heart it's torn apart.