A Home on the Road

by Kundo Yumnam

Is it not trivial,
To seek the shape of the 3 p.m.
sunlight cast on the northwest wall
Of the space that I often call home?

This skewed patch of punctual light
That clings on the off-white,
Comforts me over a cup of tea.
It’s a mundanity in my life.

I am curious,
What about the homeless ones on the
road; Driven away from space to space?
Without a consistent sunlight shadow,
What comforts them in the afternoons?

Can a home be not guarded
On all four sides by walls, windows and doors;
And move without restraints
Like a wheel on the road?

I would have to be a nomad, living on the road,
To see the 3 p.m. sunlight falling
Sometimes on a sunflower leaf,
Sometimes on a smooth black pebble,
And perhaps, sometimes, maybe on a stream.

Today, I will pack my things,
To chase the afternoon light
Falling on twigs, turtles, sand and temples.
And make my home on the road.

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