The Artwork: Seeing What’s Hidden
The Poem: Healing
My knowing
has often been
a black box
inside my mind.
The closer I get,
the bigger its blankness,
swallowing the question
decorating my hands:
What do you want,
Unwanting soul?
Finding a center
in this midnight
feel like an impossible task.
Trust yourself, but don’t
trust yourself,
separate the wheat
from the wheat,
discern me from me.
My knowing
has often been
a sealed seed
inside my chest.
To break it open
I must I feed it
with silence
with stillness
with a single question
surrounded by
a pillar of water:
What do you want,
Unwanting soul?
I hear a tree blooming
dropping fruit
I cannot yet see.