Maps and lives tear
at their seams and
we are all
rattled refugees
from somewhere. Can you
suspend
long enough to sit in
solitude
with the question, Where
do I belong?
There is a purpose beyond
possessions, and tasks
that surpass the trepidation
they churn. Raw
suffering can sooth
those sleeping sorrows
and nothing brings the texture
of life
to your fingertips like
pain. But gaze
in any light at those
you find courageous
and note their pace,
without pause.
Indulgence of the
self only skips the
step of care and
help. And need will be
breeding in mournful waves
until openness can tenderize
your heart.
Adjust your frequency. Receive
your message. Point
to those coordinates and you
will know
the boundless belonging
of home.
