santos scribes

stay

the leaves are beginning to fall
they carpet sidewalks now
spilling marigold secrets
to a quiet restless road

ocean tides leave
mountain tops stay
i am not from here
but i do belong

bodies bend
refract back
the curvature
of a iridescent moon,
so much stays hidden

hearts beat
hollowed chests
fiery sun raps
‘round red love and cool anger
sleeping, shining
sleeping, shining

air filled lungs
that need not i
to breathe them
cause trees to bud
and flowers to bloom
patient purple petals

dormant dreams
behind backlit eyes
starlit smoke stacks
build the same
new black sky
again

but it is in the hands;
the steadiness of a storied palm
that gives way
to the flight and forgiveness of our fingers
that gives way
to the redemption and reclamation of our roots

i am not from here
but i do belong

a poem spun out of the writing prompt : ‘where do i come from’ i think this is a question we all end up thinking about inevitably ~ as a person who experienced both foster care and adoption it serves me greatly to remember that i am firstly a spirit and secondly a human, having a truly extraordinary experience, i belong to me.