My roots strangely

I belong only to you, my dream.

I dont belong to my place that left as a child.

I do not belong to my father's family since its all dead and gone, with a few bones scattered in a churchyard long and far away,

I do not belong to the place where I grew up,

Beside the River Green, my mother's family

Where it was always fun to be playing in water,

Yet too scary to belong,

For there were rightful inheritors,

More rightful than us.

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 them who call me by a sweet name,

They do not know me at all, am a familiar stranger,

That nods and smiles and passes them by.

Its only you who know me, my love

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 melting down of the barriers between you and me, 

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.