Homing (a haibun) by Hein Min Tun

The years drag me anticlockwise, dimming the meandering corridor of time. I shrink and sink into a chasm of mist soft as a slumber hovering over my eyelids; muffled sentences interlaced with faint interjections burgeoning in a crescendo. On an inner gloss film looms the unspoilt replica of mine, unfurling a familiar concoction of soft colours sprinkled in the cold haze of the past. I come astride on Mama's back as she totters feigning an existence as an elephant. Slow we are off around a silent little world cocooned in a pristine ambience where awes bloom agape confined to domestic lens; the horizon is of home length and peace laden; where divine sentiments are awakened; the heart is wide, light and intact, and bliss is when Mama halts, gasping for breath, and I alight to land in a heap amid the tranquil dance of homely dust.

an elephant ride;

rays of the afternoon sun:

remembrance of home

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