Shifting home

Katharina Neisinger
5 min readNov 19, 2020
Photo by Tom Barrett on Unsplash

Shifting home

Bees buzzing beyond blooming beauties

Merge blending honey in unison, assembled –

El pueblo’s power riding on the back of pride between ridges of individual duties

Collective willpower mutating the sun like stingy wasps with distinct perceptions of moral, or fame, at last marbled.

Flapping wings of drowning money draws us towards evaporating darkness

Of rising buildings with growing funnels occulting the overview we anticipated

An array of opportunities lays on the ground unseen of our drive to compete in madness —

Tell me, who was I looking for if I could see myself at home in a mirror I hated?

I did not intend to come this far only wanting to see what is behind my ever-rounded jar

Jam of nectarines’ different taste made me wonder why I did not stay away in the first place

Home is where I could have drawn up new streams of myself out of a swamping information drool —

But how, if all I could see were the same lines of beliefs and manners from a structured genetic pool.

Rebelliously acting for the sake of it — frivolous

Or highlighting innately the power of unique souls?

Neglecting doctrines so serious

That heads turn and fill out “reconsider choices” in a life-poll.

To feel at home and securely sheathed is the reason I talk to peers from the same country at my foreign institution

An herbivore whale eating its way through the abundance of algae may seem more identified than its counter-carnivore — guided by intuition –

I feel at home, and understood in my beliefs is the reason I align with mates from anywhere but the ones holding onto their crib lonesome

Like a whale in an ocean continuing to fetch the last bluefin tuna attempting to avoid a passionless moan.

Ephemeral globalisation likens with cooling climate change,

Double-clicking photographs from shoots with sharks

Reminds of a range of distant horizons and alienating dreams

Like the royal crown, or the desired abolition of peers’ self-made memes.

Making a change in your community does not seem enough

You must collide with that kid in Japan to get an internship at Sky n’ Scraper,

To discuss with Roof n’ Top on how to comb through the colourful sky

Full of clouds of Lounge n’ Bar consulted by High n’ Above’s labour.

Home or away I did not feel to belong,

Spirituality helped me out with “antevasin”

Whom rolled the word border in the first place off the tongue?

Competitive blood in our veins and loving blood in our arteries are so akin.

Taking mussels from my Turkey vacation to decorate my bathroom

Culturally appropriating unknown cultures when wearing that golden earring

I dare not to tell my leftist friends I have a foreigner using my broom once weekly

Avoiding a hearing of conservatives when debating aiding money of her planned abortion.

Vibrating touches, skin to skin, with another person creating

New identities, out of bodies into a virtual world

Depictable not by technology but only by escaping

Our bond to bureaucratic measures and in secret spaces they whirled.

When choosing identity to be a choice I tap into the ground of many

The feeling of reciprocal felicity acknowledging freedom and standing strong

Among fighters of recapitulation and reflection; warriors of pounds of thoughts very

Slippery in deciding who we are, clashing against our own caution, knowing we are not wrong.

Purpose is not a word I like

As if enjoyment beholds it

Simply it is there, so identity ought not to imitate Nike

Praising in just doing it, living, but accounting throughout for grit.

I do not have the prerequisites of a dominion that is unknown

Yet feel the vibes beating cordially to my own heartbeat

A known territory slashes against this field, though my identity floats around even to the bone

Not determined by birth in its ever too chaotic heat.

Swamped out of the womb I did not know of time

Passed on to the midwife others determine who helps you, not that you do save me

The smell of my mother and her made me realise who is mine

Crawling back to her she susurrus mellifluously my name, I love thee.

Predetermined some things are

Biology interferes with my dreams of afar

Can I identify with everything if focussing on it?

How, if overwhelmed by all the passions I hit.

With some I feel me, others create illusions — who am I if I love the acting

Is it not about an innate sense of belonging, at shouting loudly “identity”?

Home are some people; I am those; home to others and I; myself reflecting

On the question of how identity can be prescribed if the very me creates distinct homes and enjoys adaptability.

Bulks of ideas and inspiration lead me to conclude to look at my roots

To see that leaves stem from the same seed as the shadowing crown

So, it is no nonsense to appreciate all the shoots

Of manners, values distilled, creating a nearly wholesome bubble of my own.

Gratitude illuminates all what I have and where I stand

Memories will never change; filtered data specify information

Delusional of other possibilities I doubt whether I am worth my grant

Recall, reflect, react– that all the fighting of battles is for one’s self, accomplishment and determination, but not as in “the new generation”.

Benefit and stand for what I have found

Listening to my tears when blood is running out of a failure wound

Standing in the parental house I see a book on Buddhism next to the Bible

At the door it knocks, and people come in chanting:

“Clash with yourself,

tearing crumbling walls and venomous down,

or clash against solidity –

Either way explorable identity blocks.”

Battles for ourselves

Clear the way for passion

Instead to competitively delve

Into a domain where no one is the main, in vain trying to suppress — .

Anchors submerged and overloaded by salt and darkness

Raised and cleaned off shells

Are moved somewhere else and dock in bliss,

Flaking off and receiving naturally communities of cells.

Tediously working in zones of identity

Never having discussed this topic

How ought we to choose, break out and make up our personality

Supported solely by powerful actions of our own, almost philanthropic.

Do we learn to love or love spontaneously?

Do we find ourselves and forget to simultaneously?

A quest in trying out will bring victims and the greatest gifts

So, let us ought to explore who we are in falling low and receiving lifts.

Occasionally looking for who we are

Is like a bird looking straight down instead of ahead into the air

Alive and loving are the best feelings in between land and mar

Conflating realms and encouraging quests of identity seems like a good pair.

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Katharina Neisinger
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Investing in health & climate at Pace Ventures. I occasionally write and dance. Mentally in the Caribbean.