Where do I belong, I asked self as I look into the darkness between the stars.
The stars are there; dead long ago, but, still they are alive, shining at eve horizon.
Wherefrom do my voice sound, or, is it really my voice that I heard,
that others listen.
Where do I belong, I asked self as the dust from the bookshelves drizzle on me–
These days they gather dust and droppings of lizards and roaches, as I search my
home, where I used to belong to not where I belong now.
Where do I belong, is it on the sweat of cold drinks can that slide down and settled
on the table forming a circle, wet and moist.
I looked into the darkness of the galaxy that my city owned from time forgettable.
Who actually am I? Where do I belong to? Where do I belong in?
Written for Day 11 of National/Global Poem Writing Month 2019.
Today, taking a leaf from Elhillo’s work, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of origin. Where are you from? Not just geographically, but emotionally, physically, spiritually? Maybe you are from Vikings and the sea and diet coke and angry gulls in parking lots. Maybe you are from gentle hills and angry mothers and dust disappearing down an unpaved road. And having come from there, where are you now?