Finding Home

Dear You

A week has passed
But, somehow it seems
as if I have been living here my whole life
Home
Home was just a memory created by some need to belong
But at times I get reminded of this memory
On a bus
In a train
Little instances that one could identify with home
Cranes
Malls
Writings on the cubicle door
Sometimes it almost seems like turning a corner would bring me, home
How do you justify distance
If you never really travelled
How do you define movement
In the confines of a plane

The other day I witnessed
the interaction of two strangers
A man and another
As common as any
Good evening said the man
Good evening
The other
taken aback by the man’s approach
caution in his eyes
The man drew his mouth closer to the other’s ear
He whispers
What did he say
What do you say to a stranger that requires something as intimate as a whisper
The man drew his head back
The other frozen
Gently, the other hands over the paper bag he had been holding in his hand
Gently, he turns to look out of the train
Gently, he continues to eat the sandwich in his hand
Gently
Gently
Slowly
As if the rest of the world no longer mattered
His sight tunneled
His form
alone
As the world continued in its expeditious pace
The other found some form of
elucidation

Had he found home
Did he

Love
Cain

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