Home Again

By

George O. Obikoya

He lives alone. Nothing prepares him for that. As he moves all his life, change is nothing new. Now it is. He seeks to absolve himself of blame. Yet, he knows he plays a part in the game. He says he fails to opt out, even from the start as inconceivable he thinks that is, just as he hastens to believe this is his chance to make the change.

Time is running out he reckons, or so he says. He is just as confused as the little boy he says his price has always been the same, nothing. Now help seems far away. So much so as near as it is he forlornness still seeks. He does not want to be alone another day he says perhaps is why he pains so much again.

For him, it’s all the same, just another face, and another place, one of the tens half his life define. The other half he tries to gain, as much he says it counts for change, again, some he craves today. He does not know why though, he insists, as it does not make much sense something he says tells him to change, to fail to do which he says would make the same, look even if not feel like change.

Yet, he stays the same. In a new place all alone again, his counsel, in today, away again, for when he needs to stay alive, again. But he craves, not to stay the same, what he says he no longer feels ashamed to say is not his to blame, or whatever too. He just wants to be home again, to feel what he lost half a lifetime today.

He says nothing seems to change even at home he seeks so much to be, with who so much want him away even now just as so many years ago. Yet, home it is he says, not a sojourn home, with no one to blame, for his pain, but to blame he seems always for their pain so to be shoved away, again.

So he craves, solace in what he says tells the story again, of his life at home, real in his mind as ever, just as he moves home again and again, and again. He does not want to quit just because he wants to be home again. He wants to quit for home to be home, real to him and all for whom home he says is real only in their minds is why home it is, still, and always.

That home is where he belongs rings loud in his head he says no matter what his counsel says, three more years like another lifetime to be home away from his roots he wants to change to make home be real again. He wants to be there he says before they tire to see home being home again he says to pay for what he says they know this for him would be change for which to live, again.

But he says he seeks no pain for them, for he knows that would bring no change. He is simply tired of being the same again. He wants all to change, which he says being just three should bear the pain with grace in which to seek to make home be home again. He says he is not alone being alone, that they are too to cast away the only one that yet seems pressure to keep what he does too now their anguish it soothes and he wants to change, so they would change he says too, to make all be together again, in the home they lost, again.

He no longer wants to be cast away, again and again, as he travels, from home to home, to be alone in another home again. Even now that he lives alone, still in shackles to law he says casts him away in shame, he tarries not to escape three more years to be free at last to be home again for his to build for real he prays. Yet, he waits. His counsel at least there to be sure he lives again, even if so far away to make him feel not alone again.

So he waits for his plan to move home again even for a moment, to the home he knows will change his ways, so he does not wait to live again just so his counsel may go away, and leave him alone, for good this time, that he is never alone again. He waits. One count in court for the same he says he is cast away to start with too, in fact he says is why he needs to be home again, to change the rest of a life in shame, even if he shuns the blame.

None he says should feel any blame, which relic of the source he cares little to gain. It is not for him to figure how atoms play to wreck pain on love in a home again and again, and render it to seek by him and others in peril thereof, to be home again. He just wants to be home again, for all to love and be merry and to feel that home is real once again, as when the choice he made to stay, the fruit of the real home he craves so much to save, an atomic interplay that even now he absolves of blame.

Like him now he says they were all alone, even as they played to make him in a home that he says should still be real, but from which he is cast away as always even now as he prays to change his life even in shame, to make home, home again, for all to gain.

So he quits the game for which they cast him away, to save so he lives again, counsel not, to have to breathe over him for another three years before he is free again. He says he cares not to be alone, really, only to save the home where he cares so much to be, again, to purge himself for good, to take the blame if need be to save the day. He calls them. He leaves on a trip again only this time the last, to the home he wants to be at peace with once again.

He knows he has to be back, to a home he now builds so he would not have to cast away atoms at play. Even if three years tear his soul into bits, he says to have his home is freedom enough, as he prays he makes the other that shuns him again and again, as happy and at peace as that he seeks to build.