52 moments | seven

[simply]

I crave belonging (I suspect we all do).
We hunt it out wherever it is to be found.
We band together in tightening circles
And bear the marks of our believed belonging in
The intricate carvings on our skins,
The unparalleled symmetry of our faces,
Our shared seeming inability to belong,
Or the fact that he said, ‘you, too?’

We search for our best fit—
A tiny head nestled into mama’s collarbone;
His hand in yours like hook with eye;
The three of you slunk against a rusted rail,
Together looking outward.

And sometimes we find it, but sometimes we don’t
(or we do, and it no longer fits).
The belonging we stretch for
Falls just outside our reach
Or abrades, coarse surface to coarse surface.
And we are homesick
Though this is where we’re meant to be.

Take your heart and wade on with courage
Through present tension to future tense.
We are rooted in earth but ethereal
Never full belonging
Where we won’t be long.