God of Small Things

I belong
where the lone cloud
streaks through
a cleansed sky,
where everything
is held
welcomed
loved
and seen off,
in the quiet
of an ordinary day;

I belong
to this little slice
of heaven -
a wild forest,
a teeming desert,
an exploding ocean,
that I've grown to love
all the more,
through every turn
and tilt
of the shaft
of this home,

I belong
to this moment
of timeless silence,
a haunting mystery
luring me
into
the comforting darkness
of the unknown,
where anything
is possible
when seen
with eyes
that can simply love
without reason;

I belong
to this haven
that I've built
with the sweat
and the aching muscles
of my joyous heart,
where I invite
all my friends
to come and sit
around the warmth
of the fire
I've learned to stoke
and keep alive
with love -

the fire
that makes me sit
or walk around
the fringes
of belonging
to places,
times,
and people
I can never call my own,
but who walk with me
through the flames
of desire
of wanting to belong
somewhere,

a place
where I can be filled
with the breath
of my aloneness
and honour
the God of small things,
where I belong
to myself and my life,
in a world
that crams for otherness
and a home
away from home,
in big things.