walking those streets
unfamiliar, yet
trying to make home what does not feel like home
yet
the only constant in life is reshaping
of who you are and spaces you are dwelling in
constantly meeting yourself within realms
of the unknown
i have become estranged to myself
too often, searching
wandering
homeless
indeed
i am still aiming to take my gound
cultivate my soil, establish my roots
they have not been given to me
i’m an aerial root
longing for soil
like a flower that emerges from a fissure in concrete
a flower that hooks its roots inside rocks
i have tried to make myself indigenous
to whatever surrounding
there might be
the stranger within me is a stranger to myself
adjusting, aligning, assimilating
but the ME within me keeps
waiting for a like-minded pack of lobas
a family to belong to
one day
between rocks or concrete
capabale of rooting
awaiting
rhizome
“The self is only a threshold, a door, a becoming between two multiplicities”
Deleuze & Guattari – A Thousand Plateaus
