For centuries I was lost,
searching for the place
that would quench this persistent thirst for belonging,
looking tirelessly for the village
that would satiate this enduring hunger
in the belly of my soul.
And then came the day,
when I looked out to the horizon
and the rising sun began to speak to me
through its shimmering light,
as its rays pierced through
the Eucalyptus trees.
“This is your belonging,” it said.
“This uncultured, un-grieved,
that walks beside you perpetually,
on the best of your days.
This misinterpretation of the whole enterprise of living,
this robotic slinging of the speech,
this straight-lined, domesticated, uniform walk
that’s done half-asleep,
without being questioned.
This, child, is
that’s yours to keep.
And so, the next time you say that you don’t belong,
remind yourself to lay your gaze
down to the earth,
just enough to see your well-worn feet,
that are tired of marching
to ghostly orders.
Meditate on that space between the soil
and the soles of each foot.
See that the gravity of life
has kept it’s end of the bargain
and left you this piece of thread,
this belonging to Un-belonging,
with sheer fidelity.
Take this thread, my dear friend, and weave.
Begin by finding an old unfinished tapestry,
an abandoned small garment,
or maybe even another lonely thread,
and begin the humble work
of weaving the story of Un-belonging
into the most beautiful altar piece
you could possibly weave.
You see, it was once laid out in the prophecy of Today,
that this work of Un-belonging
was not meant to be done alone.
You can sit and dwell, my friend,
but there are tears
waiting to meet Grief today.
Yes, even on this sunny day.”
© Alexandre Jodun