Emanations of the Philosophy of Life Instinct
Read the poem aloud, dear reader, and you’ll find a rhythm and enjoy it more than reading it silently.
Where Does It Feel Like Home?
My eyes open in pretty Interlaken at dawn,
The hotel’s been lovely, and two days gone,
It’s beautiful like many places we roam,
But why do none of them feel like home?
Awaking at home is somehow different,
There’s a relaxed ease and contentment,
Like belonging and connecting at birth,
Being home is like hugging the earth.
It made me wonder where’s home for me,
Has it been a cantonment, town or city?
Would I say Bangalore, Pune, or Sydney?
Locations of my birth, growth, maturity.
I may intuit the answer from the heart,
But I must also satisfy my thinking part,
For it’s undeniably something to share,
What makes a spot home somewhere?
Is it just a matter of time? Is that enough?
First-generation, second, third, how long?
Is it language, food, religion, majority?
Or pull of motherland and genetic locality?
Is home acceptance of a loved one or place?
A new beginning we turn to embrace?
Taking its goodness and flaws without fuss,
and hoping it will equally cherish us?
It made me think of the plight of refugees,
Conflicted feelings of persecuted minorities.
To be home, I have the unregarded choice,
If everyone were to have it, I would rejoice!
Tell someone or gently make them feel,
You are one of us and belong, so kneel,
This land is yours to hug and kiss,
Rest your bones here in eternal bliss.
Connect with me!
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