BY GLORIA O’KOYE
There is a spot in all of our hearts
Of wanting to be part of something.
Somewhere humbled or grand,
Something mysterious
And majestic.
A bridge of portraits,
Filled with triumphs and extravagances.
A life to commemorate alongside others,
Filling up any voids from being hyper
Independent.
Belonging to a cause,
A righteous movement,
A group of likeminded individuals
To apprehend communal love.
Belonging to one’s worthiness.
Without competing from the veins
Of envy,
Behind the glassware of a heartfelt
Chorus.
A cry for unification,
Takes a village to raise a soul.
Yet the words manipulated
To please their own needs,
Now the message is lost.
Preaching to only care about self,
Without perceiving the gaps.
The doors shut out muffled prayers,
Behind that apparent confident mask.
A life with no other presences
Is like opening up gifts of emptiness.
Without sharing the good news or to
Give out compliments.
Figuring out yourself
Without feeling belonging to something,
Is a life not meant for us humans.
The feeling of belonging to something,
Is like consuming a box of delights,
Happy endings.
