Everyone has their own pathway home—
a thread of light, a whispered roam,
a turn we take because it feels
like something gentle starts to heal.
For some, it’s carved in city glow,
in faces passing soft and slow;
for others, found in quiet air,
a distant hill, a rocking chair.
Some pathways drift through memory’s door,
returning us to what came before;
some lead ahead where hope is grown—
a place we’ve dreamed but never known.
And though our roads may twist and roam,
no two the same, no map or tome,
we walk them still, through dusk and dawn—
each heart deciding where it’s drawn.
For every soul, in time, will know:
everyone has their own pathway home.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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This poem is a truly beautiful reflection, Brenda. You have such a gentle, wise way with words. The idea that home isn’t a single destination, but a personal pathway woven from memory, hope, and quiet moments of healing… it’s profoundly moving and comforting. You’ve captured a universal truth with such delicate specificity—from city glow to rocking chairs—making it feel both deeply personal and shared by all. Thank you for sharing this gift; it’s a piece to return to, like a pathway home for the heart.