What was that Again?

Answers never interested me

as much as their questions;

no, no sharp, concrete

responses for me,

no one-worded walls

slamming against echoes of

centuries of wondering.

I don’t want your realization

or your understanding –

I want skin itching under skin

with all the unfolded mysteries

that lay on your lap if only

your hands were strong enough

to pick them up and shake them out,

I want the sky above us to tell us

the story – yes and no are too solid,

they’d fall like rocks, I want the

clouds in between that tell

not the why but the why?

that let loose with the rain

a million whys? pounding through

a silently deafening morning,

taunting us with words in a language

we cannot try to understand.

Why? I don’t know,

I’ll never know,

and neither will you,

there,Β and isn’t it a most

comforting thought?


9 thoughts on “What was that Again?

  1. “not the why but the why?” — I love that! You have definitely got my number, Natalie — the question is what interests me as well. The answer is quite incomplete and sometimes irrelevant.

  2. This perfectly sums it up. We should seek not better answers, but better questions…this one will require re-reading.
    You touch upon so many things that are finding their way into my work.

    I am also reminded of a quote by Stephan Malarme:
    β€œIt is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things.”
    This is, I think, that rain of which you speak…?

    You are quite the fantastic poet dear. Quite.

    1. This made me smile πŸ™‚ I love the way you put that, and I love the quote. The rain, of course, is whatever you think it to be – not so sure I know myself. Thank you so much!

Thoughts? I love those.

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