I woke up one evening to a late summer sun that lives far beyond
its days of regular hours of light
to be situated in movement, in dynamism,
flitting between my lands of illusion and perceived reality.
I searched for landscapes that I’ve known to see by virtue of comfort
in between content sleep and momentary awakenings.
When I travel,
there are reassuring dim lights outlining mounds of back-lit mountains
with their own gaudy colours and early night's chatter.
My father in the front seat:
awake and seriously holding a conversation with the driver while
the speakers float in a language
I comprehend at the most intimate level.
I woke up in a car racing back ‘home’.. Or what I should call home.
It took me three whole minutes to realise where I was
after the remnants of deep slumber
resting itself in the nooks of my breasts awoke
to transience.
Ten months in this city
and I still wake up from every deep slumber
to unfamiliarity.
Why, the dogs here never stop.
They don’t have the time to stop.
They’re smiling and following the tug on their leash
following their human who has taught them to sit up straight and act like a dog,
to not lick the faces of people they love and act like a dog.
Don’t jump on her, those clothes will get dirty! Act like a good dog!
They apologise for their furry companions sometimes,
‘I’m so sorry, He loves people.’ they say
and I want to just strip free of the collars round my neck,
strained attempts to ridiculous decorum
and roll by their side and fight in the mud;
because
familiarity to me is turning into my street
and whistling to have five street mongrels at my side.
They jump, they paw, they lick
and I could wash their freaking ticks away if I ever contracted any
But their love stays on across the seas for all the times they've listened to me
with crooked ears and curious eyes.
And so,
every single time I see a well-behaved dog outside my window
after a slumber so deep that I don’t realise where I am,
I miss being home where chaos was more unruly with herself,
flirting with the orderliness of monotony...
I finally understand what homesickness really means.
But now, I'm not sure I know what home means.
-Hemu
