Belonging Poems - Poems about Belonging

Now you stand at the threshold of shadowed trials— a challenge cloaked in whispers of what may come. Debts awaken, ancient scribes of your past, etching secrets into the walls where you once stood. More debts rise to start anew, in lands where shadows whisper and command— money prowls with hungry eyes, blind to your status, deaf to the paper gate’s cries. Unyielding,...

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What is love, really— a figment of hope sharp enough to shatter centuries of lived patriarchy? To think education could make a dent in what’s already carved in bone & name. To think a stranger could be chosen over the familial veins of caste, of home over the womb of belief one never questioned. Perhaps what’s whispered in secret was always meant to be hidden— buried, before it flowers into...

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As I sit here, all alone And as I'm wondering if, I'll even eat at all; As I'm taking my first step towards; ...

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Roots Without Soil I. I keep my mother's spoon in my suitcase— silver worn thin from stirring cardamom tea, its handle curved like her thumb pressing into my palm those last mornings. Now I stir instant coffee with plastic, the bitter dust settling like ash from stations where no train returns. II. The grocery clerk asks for my name twice. I spell it slowly, letter by...

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We belong to other people, In their photographs, In their memories, And in their hearts, Because sometimes that is all we have. The idea of wanting To belong to someone, To someone who tells us that they Need us just as much as we need Them—that is what the Meaning of life should be. To feel loved and to give it Back and nothing else, because Everything else...

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Yesterday I forgot how to fly. I went to take off and the sky wouldn't take me. Clouds too puffed up to let someone like me into their streets. They must have taken them - my wings. They think I don't belong there. I know because that's where the rest of humanity is - on the ground. Now that I think about...

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"Romantic lovers require from each other at least the facade of reason: The desire to be what romantic love makes us appear in the other's eyes. We want to imagine we are deserving of the love we inspire." ~Maggie Gallagher We've been slow dancing— romancing in a seductive prelude Wooed by the...

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What do I do? Where do I go? Will there ever be a day When I'm certain of what I know? I compare myself to others far too easily Hoping to become a person I'm never meant to be Does anyone else mourn the death of childhood Just as much as I? Or stand alone in winter's chill And admire the starry sky? Sentimentalism haunts...

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At dusk, at the beginning of the night, the majestic divine transition; the sun undoes its yellow splendor The moon presents its silvery glow... ...

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I was born with the meaning of home running through my veins, like sunlight weaving through branches, casting warmth on cold earth. In shadows, I gathered light, each ray a promise, each beam a whisper filling spaces of despair. With hands outstretched, I became a...

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my dog is loved and that’s a fact yet it lives in fear of abandonment why so i ask you have a home it’s never happened you’ve never been left behind you’re safe why is it you live in fear when I head out that door your panic so intense frantically pacing your heart is racing it’s a primal fear wild beyond control how can i put your mind at ease? AP:...

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Fresh ocean air Oh, take me there! To the place below the hill Three hundred years I hold it dear Ancestors can be felt still For all I've roamed My heart knows home And it cannot get it's fill How does it long! For ancient song And the view from mine own sill A seat of peace My mind's at ease Oh, the terrors a place can kill Soon I'll...

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My life’s story is a lonely tale only my faith enabled strung. I moved too much to belong anywhere or keep a friendship knit. The hurts as an army brat continued when grown to render me stung. Just core family love constantly soothed my tears and aided my grit. Lonely hits always made me wonder why He sent...

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A nomad wanders in labyrinthine wasteland of the denuded life, desolate, the sinuous dusty track takes me to the obscure terrain of forlorn nowhere. My soul’s lattice, entranced, migrates mystified, ...

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You leave without asking them to wait. You disappear without expecting them to remember. And yet— when the time comes, they show up. Not with questions. Not with expectations. Just with the quiet knowing that you are still here, that you are still you, that you were never forgotten. And that is enough....

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