Why are the leaves losing colour?
Why are the trees not rebelling still?
Why are seasons changing against their will?
When I ask, I hear only my own revolting voice, unkept.
So while they do not answer, here is my attempt:
They, too, may be grieving over
The loss of all the things
They cannot carry with them
As they transform.
But maybe,
The leaves delightfully transfigure,
The trees wait strong and tall,
And the seasons joyfully renew
Because they do not ask at all.
Because they let nature take its own course
Without question, only trust
Because maybe
We are meant to exist
despite the relentless questioning.
Because life carries on
despite all the non-answering.
We move along through the doubts we raise
and not in the truths we reconcile…
But tell me,
Do my transformations make all my questions worthwhile?
by Jan Vaughnce Yrish Plaza