Belongings

Belongings

—by Jinny Batterson

(I hope all of you enjoyed Father’s Day. This snippet came to me on a nature walk yesterday, reminding me of my dad. Though he’s been physically gone for a long time, every now and then a memory of him comes through, especially when I’m outdoors.  Dad had a bad case of dyslexia, long before there was a label for it.  He struggled all his life with spelling and grammar.  Had he written this piece, the verb agreement might have been better, but the spelling would certainly have been worse. We argued politics for most of our mutual adulthoods. However, I think we might have been able to agree on the sentiments expressed here.)

“I be longing for a homeland,” he said.

“Belongings can impede the journey,” I replied.

“I be longing for a fair land.”

“Belongings can drive us apart.”

“I be longing for a free land.”

“Belongings can imprison, too.”

“I’s old now, wrinkled, sometimes lame.
Before I hobbles off, I tells you a secret—
One deep down you already knows:
We all belongs.”

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