Home. Nyumbani. 집.

Home.

Her home defines her.

She longs for it.

 

Her home gives her belonging.
Shown to others, her home unveils pieces of her heart.
Hidden deep inside.
Waiting to found and cherished.
 

Appreciated by so few.  

The countryside is like a painting.

Though it doesn't fade on parchment as though it had been brushed there.

Forever locked in the Artist's inspiration.

 

Untouched by human development.

The bush belongs to her.

Comfortingly quiet.
And peacefully rural.

The rains come.
Green blades shoot up through the dampened earth.
The misty clouds envelope the rolling hills in their cold embrace.

Land covered in forests and farms.
Of pine.
Of eucalyptus.
Of corn.
Of numbu.

Dried grass covers the brick huts.
Walls black from smoky fires.
Mud floors swept daily.

Little cherubs.
Dirty clothes and snotty noses.
Waving.

Endless land.
Uninhabited.
Pure.
Natural.

Dirt roads.
Raging rivers.
Green trees.
 Radiant sunsets.

Her home is etched into her heart.
The one place of belonging.
The one place of completeness.
Home.

 

 

 

 

 

 




 

Lonely. Upweke. 고독한.

Lonely.

The term depends on the user.

For some it can be the state of being far from people.

Others it can mean not being understood by the people around you.
Not being able to relate to them.

Alone.
One is never completely alone in a literal sense.
But in her heart she lonely more than she would like.

But.
Being alone generates in her a better understanding of self.
When surrounded by people daily, she finds herself longing for aloneness.
Oddly she longs for the familiarity of being lonely.

Contradicting.
Yet the two feelings are felt evenly.
To be alone and depressed.
To be alone and contented.

Lonely.

Left behind.
Forgotten.

Nostalgic.
Longing.

Waiting.
Always waiting for it to end.

The bleak grip.
The oppressive weight.
The welling tears.

Her heart can stand it.
It has before and will now.

God is on her side.
That's all she needs.