belonging

sometimes I think I belong when I don't.
sometimes I think I don't belong when I do.
sometimes I know that I belong.
mostly I just hope that I do.
[but what of the days when I walk away?]

despite my bids for independence,
the search is for the real home;
where I really belong;
not the pit-stops I cling to along the road.
but the place where I can say we
with a resounding, heartfelt joy

I did know this - from day one
not even knowing that I knew.
and even when life has laid it bare,
[as it often has]
I still forget, or would rather forget,
'it's now or never!' I say.
'what use is tomorrow's home today?'

falling in love has been a better forgetting,
when hope surges again:
this time! ! I cry.
though it dies as certainly as I myself will die,
yet each love is a pale reflection of truth.
furiously I fan the flames
until finally falls the rain.

this makes me sad only because I am looking upside down.
each love: a mirror.
darkly maybe,
but my best glimpse of you for many a year!
manna for a decade.

to see aright I must learn to balance on my head.