written by Zoltán Miglécz on August 12th 2013 HOME … and there I was again exhausted and determined to leave all matters and pains behind and return home. I sure have got a home; Without my home I exist no more as that is the house of my origin: My Mother’s house; The house of my childhood. …but then, I heard questions. They asked me where I was going as no one ever saw and no one ever heard of my mother. So I tried to explain: I have got my mom and I will always have her but she is ill now. Very, very ill. …and at that moment I was carried away by her illness just the same to feel the pain, the hopelessness of mortality together… …and we set out to drag our life back reluctantly clinging on that horrible disease as that was real it seemed …at least not a forgotten speck of dust or a forgotten teardrop for Home is ever-existing and Mother is ever-existing. I keep haunting the area day after day walking the path to home but no walls, not a bed and Mom is not there but She will come – I believe. I can see her now and I can see the house and I dream again and again and obstinately and weeping I walk the path to my home up and down, here and there because My Mother is alive, she is just very, very ill. …and so am I finding refuge in that everlasting ailment. I haven’t seen a tomb, I haven’t seen names there all was a wicked nightmare. Here I am again¸ walking home, on my path home, walking, walking, walking, home is in my heart same as my Mom is.
Posted on: Mon, 12 Aug 2013 22:17:11 +0000
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