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Tears & Threads Of Un-Belonging

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

that grumbled

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,

baggage-filled, unseen,

lonely torment,

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

the sacred-troubled-belonging

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


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