My Roots Strangely

I belong only to you, my dreams.
I do not belong to my place that left as a child.
I do not belong to my family since it is all dead and gone,
with a few bones scattered in a churchyard long ago and far away,
I do not belong to the place where I grew up,
Beside the river green,
Where it was always fun to be playing in water,
Yet too scary to belong,
For there were rightful inheritors,
More rightful than me.

Nor do I belong to a family which calls me my own,
Though the blood that runs through my veins is hardly theirs,
Nor do I belong to some who call me by a sweet name,
They do not know me at all, am a familiar stranger,
Who nods and smiles and passes them by.

Its only you who know me, my crests and troughs,
My feminine spirit and tenderness,
My occasional clownishness in trying to belong,
To some name, some family, some tribe,
Where I do not belong.

You are where I belong, in the terrible silences
and the all engulfing tenderness that follows,
That is the space where I see myself,
As yours having a name and being
other than all these illusions.