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  • Lorraine Johnson

[90] Belonging

That yellow leaf that falls gently, landing by your foot

new, yet familiar, as the comfort of a mother's eyes and walking barefoot

and hearts you know that hold space for you to grow

to arms we lean toward, belonging before met

in the possibility of feeling love not yet known

and hearing calls of a thousand moans

Feelings full-grown stream as a down pour

leaving marks as deep and abundant

as the flickering layers of the luster of a moonstone.

New, yet familiar, we recognize our own—

the ones that fill the heart and pull longing from your soul

turning cracks of deep loss into joy, filling you whole.

Yes the leaf falls, but the humming bird still lingers—

alone in its solitude with a fast beating heart

Perhaps it's better to be the butterfly,

not the cuttlefish showing off its bright colors

while snatching all that it likes,

as it sneaks its way into existence and thus has a short life.

Ah! but the earthworm—oh how it spends its days

quietly improving the garden for others to graze

Like the roots that carry the color of the healing chakra

—grounding the world in colors of red, brown and black.


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