My tribe, my own


Not all who have mothers,
Can know how it feels to be a child.

Not all who have siblings,
Can feel protected.

Not all who have fathers,
Can call themselves a princess.

Not all who have husbands,
Can pride to be queens.

Not all who have families,
Can claim to belong.
Because, to belong is beyond blood.

I have found my tribe,
Not in the confines of my house;
But in the saddest of places, like a murky mind,
That sees the same darkness as I do, and
In the loneliest of deserts, like the heart of a kindred soul.

I have found kinship,
Not with the clan that profess to be family;
But with the trees I wrap my arms around heaving a sigh,
When the goodness they breathe out,
Makes my soul pristine, with every whiff I hug back in.

I have found peace,
Not in the quietness of my vacant house;
But in the tranquil lull of the seas,
That is balm to my wounds, and
Heals the gashes on my heart.

I have found love,
Not in people’s hollow words they decorate their Facebook posts with;
But in the eyes of a speechless animal, who
Feels my bleeding innards,
Even in my silence.

I have felt at home,
Not with people who have labels in my life;
But with this nameless tribe of mine,
Whom my soul would meet again and again,
In all my lives to come.

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