Navigating Belonging

I contemplate, in the midst of all these books,
each offered like a tea party—
waiting for me to sit with their wisdom,
as if acknowledging a piece of myself.

Yet my innocence feels frozen,
as if I must prove myself worthy to know them,
to dialogue with them.

All I want is to receive and love into each book,
to lean into discovery within the pages of creativity,
where a child sits in wonder,
playing with her books,
setting them up for a tea party.

I imagine us conversing over tea—
these books and I,
sharing an authentic exchange
from one to another.

As for me, I am like an open book,
with random writings and some empty pages.
I would not want to fill myself up—
certainly not with idle chit-chat,
but with meaningful phrases that,
with each conscious inking,
pour into waiting cups,
leaving room for more wisdom.