They say, ‘home is not a place, it’s a feeling you keep’,
mine grew in silence, in roads running deep,
not where I started, but where I became,
Bahrain is the place that remembered my name.
I came here young, just passing through time,
never knowing this land would slowly be mine,
but days turned to years, and years turned to truth,
and I built my whole world in the heart of my youth.
Fourteen years written in corridors of light,
in classrooms that shaped how I think and I write,
in teachers who saw more than marks on a page,
who gave me a voice, who gave me a stage.
To the people here, so gentle, so kind,
you didn’t just welcome me, you stayed in my mind,
your warmth wasn’t loud, it quietly grew,
into something steady, honest, and true.
Even the voices, the stories we hear,
the media speaking with balance and care,
a place where words don’t divide but repair,
where truth still matters, where people are fair.
Between desert winds and the edge of the sea,
this country gave something precious to me,
not just a place, or a name, or a view,
but a dream I could hold and slowly pursue.
I found my words on these very streets,
in quiet nights and in soft heartbeats,
in skies that whispered, “you’ll find your way,”
and suns that rose with something to say.
People ask me, “where do you belong?”
and the answer feels both right and wrong,
because roots may start in another land,
but my heart grew here, just as planned.
No matter the noise, no matter the strain,
this place still lives deep in my vein,
and through every change, through joy or pain,
my loyalty stands with Bahrain.
I may not have started beneath your sky,
but you taught me how to dream, how to try,
and if I’ve become who I am today,
it’s because you never turned me away.
Farah Naaz
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