There is no “why” to ask.
We are why.”We” includes inclusiveness,
We are crooked trees, in our forests
While, “why” presumes there is an answer,
Erasing necessary ambiguity.
When the arrow becomes liquid,
And slender directness smears,
The target widens,
And the goal is edgeless.
Non-responses and no-reasons,
Authorize composting interactions,
Alive and learning with happy worms,
Down where history is cultivating future.
Come with questions that span eras,
Where sharp details are dethroned,
Blurred until eyes intent, loose track,
And the knowing moves again.
When calamity is drenched through,
And piercing purpose is saturated,
The soggy mess is muddied.
Strange clarity spores into the undergrowth,
Acute situations require action,
Based in swift clear decision,
Made in the muck and dripping with it,
What will be –pulling into place.
Below, in the squish of life,
There is no replacement part,
Nothing to solve.
But we can breathe in the mess.
-Nora Bateson 2016