beLonging

We all belong somewhere

I stumble (slip) along a slope
up the mountain I built
but cannot climb
I sit, defeated, until
the silence speaks to me:

“escape to the world within
to stories of romance and adventure
set in the forest behind your house
Ivanhoe and Rowena will come to life and
Peter chase the white witch through Narnia”

I hear the dreams in my head
and weave them into the quilt of a smile
to warm me when winter words chill.
Out of the cold around my soul
and the whispered stories of silence
I design a home.

I belong.

Originally published in The Powhatan Review, Norfolk, VA 2006(ish)