Wholeness
written by: Nabiha Waris
I don’t know where it came from,
but I want it to stay.
I want it to stay,
like a stray cat that finally
found a warm hearth
to lay its paws next to.
life begins to form
its meaning
and I am at the potter’s stool,
warm clay gathering in
my hands.
It could be anything.
I wanted it to be a home
and I tried to make one,
but the hinges upon the door
came undone.
So I squashed that.
Trembling hands started again.
So I try again.
This time,
a garden
and roses that remain
unplucked by muddy hands
and tall fir trees
that touch their weathered fingertips
to the sky’s underbelly,
and the sky laughs
and rains down on us
its happiness
and the fishes in my pond
stop swimming
their endless circles,
and the mice and their babies
come out to play.
Oh! how wonderful
is this little clay piece
I’ve built
with my steadied hands.
