belong

he bent  over,
lacing up his sharp
black tipped shoes-
he had walked through
a puddle earlier that day
with his trainers
so they were still
back at home 
drying on
the register.
he is new to our group,
quiet fella,
soft spoken,
but when he chooses to speak,
he is articulate, 
highly intelligent, 
and very thorough.
[much like the others]
i made sure 
he had his belongings
as he gathered 
himself
to depart.
i hadn't quite known
what to make of him,
always fighting the battle
within myself,
do i have anything to offer this
sea of intelligence,
i feel like the 
youngest,
least experienced,
barely enough scraps of
knowledge to 
hang on
with the floating conversations,
i often sit 
silently,
lest the real truth of 
the extent of me
fall out 
accidentally.

it does.

i opened the door
as he stepped out
into the night,
offering him a cheerful goodbye,
and he stopped,
turning on his heels.
"i really love your intensity.
I rather enjoy it."
and he left with a smile.

and that was a sweet gift 
of words
that i let warm the 
insides of 
my heart
allowing myself 
to drown out the 
proddings and jabs 
that i 
inflict myself,
with a quiet small assurance
that i am 
allowed a 
seat at the 
table.