Namaste.
Today my name is
Rootless, as I theorize
The concept of home and
A place I can sit, dream
A place I can ‘die peacefully in her sleep’
And I wouldn’t be ashamed
Of the paper that prints that the next morning.

Shalom,
Today my name is morbid,
Because I just don’t want
To die as nothing.
I’ll float into oblivion
Happily, so long as I’m not
Already there when I die.
That want is
The Curse of the Cognizant Being.

And here I feel like nothing.
I feel like lost, like
I’m walking barefoot, thirsty
On burning sand and I’m miles from
The nearest civilization.
Like I went to the dance,
Dressed all pretty-pretty,
But no one ever told me where it was.
Yet I spit out words, I call this place
‘Home,’ like I never really gave thought to dictionaries.

I’m just a dust-to-dust nomad
With no chance to be glorious.