For the Asking

For the Asking

“When does wholeness happen?”

I asked the dry grass poking through

the snow, and I sat, waiting

for the answer, but the grass did not

speak and neither did the snow.


I looked up into the sky without clouds,

asking what it feels like to be whole,

but the sky just kept staring at me

and never acknowledged the question.


I touched the tree’s bare branches

and asked, silently this time, “Will I

ever be whole?” The tree wrapped

cold limbs around me and whispered,

“Keep asking questions, but stop

looking for answers.”


And as we stood there together,

swaying, I laughed as I realized

that wholeness does not just

happen, and that I already know

exactly what it feels like.

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