POEM - Surprise

What is cherished most is like the game we sometimes play:
“If a fire burned down your house,
which things would you save?”

A waterproof bicycle map of the valley,
given to me on my birthday.
A small coffee grinder I use
to brew organic French roast on Sundays.
A santuku knife I received as a Christmas gift.
Your trust
and how you said that you saw heroic things in me.

You serve up wholesomeness
in a couscous and mushroom casserole
with flavors that suggest you are no stranger.
You serve up faith in the family of disparate things,
wholeness bound by the thread you use
to sew the gaping holes in me.

I linger in the feeling of belonging to you
And this shocking truth still surprises me.