the question

the question

age eleven

dark of the moon
chill air nipped
her bare neck
she lay on
new-mown grass
it’s familiar balm
enveloping her
as she stared at the
black sea of stars
flaming dots of
awakening that
stretched to
the end of time
what made this
intelligent wild
unexpected array?

not where she looked
maybe there were
no answers
which curled her gut
how can a tiny
dot understand
what it lives inside of?
she had to know—
didn’t understand
the search carried her
farther, away—
till an inward
turn and the solitary
walk toward home

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

2 thoughts on “the question

  1. Patrice Garrett

    Loved this poem. I could just see you staring up at the night sky. Only question is would an 11 year old child describe the the vast twinkle as an intelligent unexpected array? Maybe uncountable beautiful mysterious went on forever? Just a thought. With much love. Miss you so.. have everything working now except the camera and am taking care of that this week. So I hope to zoom next Tuesday.💕💕💕💕💕🙂

    WordWranglingWoman Sent from my iPad



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