I keep thinkin about
that great cloud of witnesses
they say we are surrounded by.
Belonging must be my strongest hunger
and I notice it most as i count years down
of family members growing older.
It makes sense that we are born into
already created units of people
since Belonging seems to shout so loud.
What doesn't make sense is death.
A shrinking family.
My own belonging feels unstable.
But hope flickers when
in my mind-
like mirrors reflecting mirrors-
I see All who've gone before
surrounding surrounding surrounding
Farmers and journeyers and laborers and poets
Who I came from and who I will return to.
I don't even know them
but there's something about belonging to another
that opens the way for Perfect love.
I don't even know you and I love you.
I don't even know you and I love you.

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