I Belong – Paul C Pritchard

It’s a black wet night.
Even leeches are vertical-poised, waiting.
Dogs are restless.
I am wide-awake
ensnared between worlds.
My loneliness hears human
voices in the riotous frog gossip.
I’m straining to hear,
through the impassable night’s arc,
My Name.
The solemn deluge will not take a breath.
The creeks are escaping like terrified murderers.
I have just enough blood on my hands to jump in
and join the flash floods’ furious call to self-harm.
Standing knee deep in the weight of the rapids,
drenched beneath my skin,
underneath
the screech-pitch of turbo clicking cicadas,   
I hone into the frogs’ emerging mantra.
There is a voice,
faint, human,
almost drowned.
It says over and over
I belong I belong I belong I belong I belong I belong