Along the driveway, I hear the
hush of the dry summer grasses
and the sweet wavering
of the morning dove on the line.
My hand unlatches the wooden gate
into the garden, and I am greeted
by a whirring rush of feathered air,
as the quail drift back over the fence.
These sounds are so welcoming–
like instant utterances into my heart–
that all of me rises to meet them.
And I know, here I am held.
Even the pantry with that old familiar
smell is inexplicably affirming.
Yes, this is where I come from.
Yes, from all these lives.
It calls up in me some great sense
of knowing – a knowing that is never
questioned, never even thought about–
a complete belonging.
So that even now, even in this
uncertainty, I can feel
my welcomeness in this world.
I can feel how the dance
of so many things weaves
into my being,
which is our being,
which is everything,
which is home.