the nest of home

there are days I wish
I were not here, I wish
I were somewhere
far away from here
 
the nest of home is warm and
pleasant, but sometimes it can be
a very cold place
affection is shared with fears and
frustrations
on the table the milk is warm
the honey is sweet
the bread is not scarce
but love can be
a bitter drink hard to swallow
the tender voice that lulls
also creates insecurities
the tender hands that caress
also hurt the body
children are seldom born to measure
they can be a blessing or
a challenge from God, however
what is wrong must be corrected
what is unknown and indispensable
must be learned
one way or another
by hook or by crook
it's all for my own good and
one day I will be thankful
for now, I must try harder and
give my best 
because they expect no less
 
I understand all that
they repeat it constantly to me
for that reason, I walk and
behave
as they please
I say yes, I say no or
keep quiet, as I am allowed
trying to stay out
of trouble, but
what else can I be
but myself
that is the simplest or
the most difficult, or perhaps
the greatest challenge
of my whole existence
although, with the strength
of my blood and
lacking any other example
still unwillingly, I follow
the same habits and carry
the same regrets
 
I know that no effort
merit or achievement
will ever be enough
however, it would be good to hear
‘son, I love you just as you are or
in this and that you resemble me’
 
some truths hurt
some truths
are hard to accept
truths like family ties
that cannot be denied
it is true
no one can hurt you more
than those you love and
when in the nest of home
the walls finally speak
the whole house trembles