And Again

Whether or not,
I confess,
I love to play
these games with you,
though they
make it hard
to settle.

And whether or not,
no matter
how many times
I try to walk it off
or walk away,
I circle back,
or you run ’round
to stand
in my path again.

And whether or not,
this heavy, wet air
that rides ahead
of the storm
is an embrace
I won’t release.

And whether or not,
there is no escape,
and despite the entanglement,
I find
I am still

And whether or not,
this is my everything,
but if you asked,
I would gladly
share it with you.

And look here.
I saved you a handful of seeds —
a nest of eggs —
a jar of sunlight and rainwater —
and all the wild I can muster —
all of it unbound
from the limits
of whether or not.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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