The Power to Belong

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Eden by Steve Garnaas-Holmes by Steve Garnaas-Holmes


Out beyond Eden it was also garden.

Still is. And we are still here.

The tangled roots of the Tree of Life

hold us, have never let us go.

Fruit trees gladly share with us,

the grasses embrace us,

the ocean bows at our feet,

forests lift their arms in prayer.

Currents of air and ocean swirl

like Vincent's starry skies—

too much paint! too much energy!

too much color! wild, unleashed!—

all speaking the language

of beauty and overabundance.

Every creature has its part,

receives its blessing, offers its gift.

The toad is not ridiculed for its looks.

The slug is not accused of being lazy.

The worm is not thought of as lowly.

The crab with its little tweezer hands,

the woodpecker whacking away,

the desert scrub, the barnacles

waving their silly little fronds,

all find their food.

Every great predator contributes.

The lions are subject to the fleas.

Vines grow in Chernobyl,

blossoms, every year, at Auschwitz.

There are dragonflies.


The great power each is given

is not to dominate, or even to survive,

but to belong.


I mean just imagine! We are out beyond Eden and judgements are dissipated. Instead we are speaking the language of “beauty and overabundance”! I mean just imagine…it is difficult!


This is a poem of the unimaginable…almost. It is what we long for isn’t it? To belong. We tend to strive to belong, placing our energy outside ourselves; assuming the power to accept us lies out there.


And then I am so overtaken by the notion that the great power each is given/is not to dominate, or even to survive,/but to belong.


Power to belong,,,


I think of a longing to belong

I think of rejection to belong.

I think of exclusion and inclusion and membership and dues

I think of externally imposed hurdles.

I think of exhaustion from the striving.


I never thought of something inside me, each of us, which was a power, an energy, to belong! 


In today’s world I am too often consumed by the egregious powers of domination and cruelty, and yes, I question whether I have the power to survive. But if I turn away from my own preconceived notions and “try on” those of the poet, I am overwhelmed by possibility. 


I am thinking of the power of the blossoms at Auschwitz, like joy in the midst of grief. That is true beauty and abundance of hope.


“Every creature has its part,

receives its blessing, offers its gift.”


So much color.

Endless grace.

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