It isn’t for anyone else to say we belong in this world.
In this part of the world.
In this place in this part of the world.
We need not seek it.
It was ours all along.
Not contingent.
No sign-off required.
Stop looking outward.
Shift your view.
Step outside.
From the porch, the street, the other side.
Turn around and look at yourself.
You. Belonging.
Take a seat at the other side of the table.
See the view from there?
You. Belonging.
They’ve known it all along.
It’s been their dirty little secret.
All of you belongs.
Liar. Lover. Friend.
Glutton.
Victim.
Latecomer.
Disaster. Survivor. Lamb.
We belong in absence.
In loneliness.
In banishment.
In the silence of those we want to want us.
To the places we’ll never return
To the people we’ll never forgive
To families we’ve lost
In the world we were told was not for us.
For which we were too much or not enough.
We belong.
Upon the horse.
In the saddle.
At the end of the lead.
In the face of the shamers.
The ones demanding we be other to gain entry.
The dissenting masses.
Standing watch.
Far from the land’s grasp.
Rising and falling with the swell.
We belong.
Where we spread the ashes.
Bring our souls to rest.
Divine the angels to save us.
We belong.
There is no effort.
No proving ground.
No hurdle for jumping.
No passing go.
The world is not made for us.
It is made of us.
And so. We belong.
