When Your Bones Feel At Home

finding ears in bones
to hear the song of the land
belonging here — home
I live in a place that is beautiful and yet when I arrive on the sun-drenched island of my ancestors my bones seem to sigh in recognition of home. It is as if gravity has been restless in its longing for my body to touch this part of the earth and when we at last embrace, gravity relents, and everything is lighter.
This is a place where olive trees count fruit in centuries and they too accept gravity’s invitation to embrace the earth rather than reach endlessly for the sun. The sun burns our wings but the earth and the sea offer themselves freely. Here, there is no more need to reach because I have arrived.
This is a feeling of belonging that is not conceptual. In this place, my bones know belonging directly as sensation. This belonging is experienced as a truth that does not have to be justified or explained.
This place I speak of is Crete. Here is a poem I wrote about being Cretan
and here is an example of a haiku with a deeper reflection accompaniment:
