Member-only story
I Don’t Belong
A stubborn fool declares her freedom
I don’t belong to you,
Iron tragedies and sorrows.
I don’t belong to furrowed
Inner lands of pain
Blurry with confusions.
I don’t belong to injury’s
Conflicted, borrowed darkness.
I belong
To light escaping
Rank murky choices.
This body — a play of words
Scripted by cells and DNA
To walk in carbon, bonded
Wet by liquid molecules both rare
And ordinary — rides a chronic
Life of tides aligned by globes
Above and far beyond, clutching
Rock and dust that relay photons,
Glowing steady overnight. I am never
Blocked from sunlight, ever never all
The way home. I don’t belong
To anything — not hot whistles
Of neglected kettles, melting metal
On the burner, nor scarlet embers strewn
By strife’s hard crackled gaze into
The past. I belong to
Nothing thick or solid, crusted
Plates shifting on a pregnant
Mantle — host of constant change
Crafting shade to make light matter
More than empty, broken glasses.
