As a product of displacement, I used to believe that home could only be defined by walls, windows, appliances and floorboards, by land or lineage, or by stains of neglect and ridicule. For those whose sanctuaries have been violated. For those who left without turning back. For those who have been harmed or neglected. Home does not have to solely be marked by blood memories. Allow the unravelling to take place here. You are safe…