I feel like a nomad.

There is this song I’ve been binge listening to. Its sang by an African man with a deep voice. And no instruments. The background is the sound of people humming. They sound like men mostly. Then at the chorus they join the man singing in such beautiful harmony.

Its a sad song. Sang by a man. Explaining how he is feeling about a life situation beyond his control. He doesn’t blame anyone about it. Not even himself. Its just what it is. But he does something else beyond express his sadness.

He asks for help. He tells whoever he is singing to, that they should answer him when he calls. He says he feels alone. With bones creaking. And a broken heart. And with that he beseeches this person to not hide his face away from him.

I feel exactly like this person. Except that I don’t ask for help. I can explain how I’m feeling. Or at least try. But it never occurs to me, that when my bones creak, when my heart hurts, when I feel like a nomad, I can actually ask for help. That sadness can also be shared. That I can specify what I want from someone at that point.

Today someone who knew how I was feeling called me. It only later occurred to me, that she didn’t call for whatever she called for, she called to give me an opportunity to ask for help from her. And I didn’t. It didn’t even occur to me till much later.

And I hope, that as I continue feeding my soul to this man’s voice, I shall borrow a leaf from him. And learn how to ask for help. How to express myself as vulnerably as he does. That I shall be able to pinpoint to where it hurts.

For now, I feel like a nomad.

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