By Megan He
Sacred is my home,
in a beloved Midwestern town,
in a house tucked into the woods,
where the sunlight filters through the trees.
But I was unfulfilled,
craving a new beginning, without appreciating
what had shaped me all along.
my whole life in one place,
but only when opportunity fell at my feet
at seventeen, did I realize what exactly I was leaving behind.
Sacred is a small apartment
with a twelve hour time difference.
Guangzhou feels a lot like home;
my grandmother emerges from the kitchen
with plate after plate of steamed dumplings.
I had not walked the streets in almost a decade, yet
The people look like me,
they speak my mother tongue.
But it is still foreign.
I may have been gone for far too long.
I’m still looking for something intangible;
perhaps it’s familiarity
or comfort. All I know is
I’m chasing a new feeling of home,
and I don’t think that will ever
I can travel far and wide;
I can see beautiful things, but nothing will leave
that same indelible mark.
Maybe then will I truly understand what it means to be
Sacred is my home—
is it somewhere physical?
Or does it only exist
in my head?
Nevertheless, it is where I never feel lonely
even when I am alone.
Megan He is a student at Yale College. You can contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.