Nomad

a Poem

Agnes Louis
Oct 7 · 3 min read
Author in Lombok, Indonesia. ©Agnes Louis

My feet,
took me places,
where I lived, breathed
tasted, experienced.

Never quite knew… home,
where the heart, the soul,
the essence of a being,
anchored, moored, bound.

Home, the grass, touched by the sole of my feet.
Home, the wind, scattered in the four corners of the world.
Home, the sunlight, gently touching the surface of the Earth.
Home, what is familiar, a gentle embrace.

She, had been home.

Relentlessly,
I traversed the world,
seeking for… home,
and for a short while,
I found,
home, in her.

But now the wind had carried her,
back, to her home, and I,
I was left,
untethered, unmoored,
drifting further,
barely afloat.

Home, was… found.
Home, was… lost.

And now I am trying, again,
to find my way home, again.

I think, I’m on my way.
I think, I’m doing… okay.

I think I’m… going home.


Author’s note: I had left home at the age of 19. Pretty much like almost everyone else in my hometown who went to study abroad at that age. The only difference between me and the majority of others is that I never really went… home.

One by one, I watched my friends settled down in my hometown, living close to the people they had grown up with, in a place where they had grown up.

I gave it a fair shot.

That life just wasn’t for me.

I had made many homes ever since, not really knowing where home truly lies. Until fairly recently. When a thought just occurred to me as I was thinking of my late mother.

My mother.
She had been home.

No matter how far I go, there had always been a thin, sturdy thread that led me back home. That line had been severed.

Along with sorrow, I had felt raw fear the first few days after my mother’s passing. I had thought that it was merely because I had lost a mother, a figure I had looked up to all my life, my best friend, my closest confidante, my rock.

The fear must have been caused by the thread being cut loose as well.

All of a sudden, I was a little dinghy, with no means of navigation and no provision, cut loose in the vast, bottomless, borderless ocean.

The fear was as real as daylight.

I am still, a nomad.
And will always be, a nomad.

The fear has subsided since. Like a wave in the ocean, it has slowly ebbed.

And I think I’m slowly finding my way home again.

Finding my way home in stillness. (Author in Bali, Indonesia) ©Agnes Louis

Pablo Pereyra I think I’m still searching for home. Thank you for the inspiration, brother 🤗

Agnes Louis

Written by

Writer by heart. Teacher by trade. I teach English, Yoga and Pilates. Avid reader. World traveller. Model.

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