Where is Home? — hooligan mag

by Diya Padiyar

Mother's lap
Lover's arm
Father's shoulder
Where
is home?
Where
can I rest?
can I come back to after a weary
day

I came back
as promised
I came back
“home” And I can smell
the butter of cookies
Like the ones
my grandmother made
But the jars are empty
I can hear the water being pulled
from the well that has been dry
for years Thirsty by the absence
of mouths that both she and I
               long for

I can feel my mother's dupatta
Swirl on my face as the wind blows
but where is
the song
the rhythm
the rhyme
that the wind here
was known for?
the song of this land my land
taught me to sing

What have I come back to?
I haven’t reached home
I think
I am close enough close enough
to hear the waves on its shores

But the water lacks salt
And the sand lacks strength
I think
I am miles and miles and miles away

But my feet is soiled with sand
That glitters the reflection of stars
I think
I walked ahead
I left it behind
I walked miles and miles and miles
in search of something
I've always known to be so transient

I left
home in search of
home Then where do I go
back? Where is
home?

I carry home along I carry home
on the shores
Where the sand
glitters my feet
Where I hear
the waves
descending from my land as if coming
along with me
wherever I go
or wherever the sea goes
or wherever the water goes
In the well where my thirst is fulfilled
or in the jars of butter cookies
and in the embroidery of dupattas

I carry home along
Wherever I go home
is not where I settle home
is where I fly home
is where I am resting

Diya Padiyar is a 16 year old writer from Goa, India surviving on poetry and productivity. She aspires to share her words with the world. When she is not writing, she likes to doodle, dance and experiment in the kitchen.