Nomadic Roots

I wept
That girl I can’t remember being
Wept and begged
To belong in Your world, fleeing
Her own world on broken legs
And there was

No room at the Inn for me either,
So I wandered…
And You came along
All those years squandered
Waiting for some invitation, wronged
By all

My own assumptions.
Lone travels, and smokes, and nights
Staring down the stars, asking You
Why I survived, what right
Had I to starry views
And how could I get closer

To You.
I’ve lived all these days sleeping
On the outskirts, an outsider,
And I stopped weeping.
I can’t wedge a divider,
Or reshape what’s been formed

By wild rains,
City lights and uncut earth,
The river’s edge groaning
Swelling, giving birth
To neon coffee foaming
Some lonely guitar

Plucking my allegiance.
I belong first to You,
And then to the lost ones,
Between the floorboards, through
The cracks in the functions
Of societies and proprieties

And families.
But how can I build the bricks,
Mix the mortar, lay the grout,
Building the walls thick
That kept us out
In the cold

Because we bled all wrong
Because we didn’t cower at the knuckles of honesty
And every world is Yours.

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