I Belong

A poem from ten years ago this day

On my birthday, I sometimes get into philosophical mood… Around this day of the year, it is indeed usual that something happens where I feel a new life has began in one way or the other. 

At the age of 10, by an accidental meeting with another little girl, I got introduced to the local folk dance group, and that set me on a path for this life. 
When I was 19, I spent my birthday in a hospital with an unusually heavy Hepatitis where the doctors said I needed to be very careful with moving, for at least a half year. A few weeks later I was on stage, touring with the dance group in Slovakia… 

In 1993, I got my son as a present – two years later in January, I broke up with his father and we divorced. In the same time, my beloved Grandma, who used to sing the lullabies so beautifully, passed away… 

In 2000, somehow, a very happy and productive period of my life started, overnight. 

In 2008, I had a cancer surgery… 

And now, without going into more details here*, I am giving myself the most precious present of freedom: 

(*Note 2018 January: later on, I might go into the details and tell you much more about why this poem was born) 


It kills me when I can’t speak, 
It kills me when I have to be 
Silent about what I see. 

It kills me when I have to lie, 
When I have to put on a smile 
That I don’t feel inside. 

Just an empty façade. 

When I see it’s black 
And they say it’s white. 

When I see it’s not right 
And they say it’s all fine. 

It kills me when I must show 
That everything is right. 

Insidious, poisonous, 
Slowly creeping, surely killing 
Cancer of the soul. 

“I can’t tell it to anyone, 
So I tell it to everyone” – 
Our friend has said it. 

So I chose to LIVE. 

Live a life that only belongs to me 
Yet it is of all Man. 

Live a life where I decide 
What is true for me. 

Where I am the one 
Who says what I see. 

Where birds have wings to fly, 
Mothers to hear babies cry, 
Where the children are not shy. 

Live a life where poets write, 
Dancers jump and turn, 
Painters set the color. 

I belong to Life. 

I belong to where laughter roars 
And where lovers kiss, 

And where empty promises 
Are not part of the script. 

Where sanity rules. 
Where the Spirit calls. 

I belong to no party, no club, 
No church or religion, 
Organization, association. 

I belong to my own kind, 
My only child, 
My peace of mind. 

I belong to my own voice. 

I belong to the ever-hungry 
For beauty and melody. 

And probably, hopefully, 
I belong to another heart. 

I belong to those 
Who make food with a brush, 
A pen, a bow, a string, a lens. 

I belong to the free-thinkers, 
Free-sayers and free-doers. 

And when I’ll have to look back 
At all my years, 
With eyes already closed, 
The question will be asked: 

Was it good, the way I belonged? 

– Budapest, 15 January 2011 

Hibiscus bud. This baby was in my room on the day when I wrote these words.

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