Poetry

What’s Inside?

I wrote this poem because when I was a child I was very curious, but could never quite find the answers to all of my questions. As I grew older, I realized that some things can never really be answered in a clear, definitive way. I wanted to see the world as something that could constantly be cracked open – each new discovery leading to another like a never-ending onion. I always wanted to figure out what was inside so I could understand that intangible quality that mysteries had. However, there never really is a concrete answer for what is inside a person. The answer is variable, changing with time and perspective and from individual to individual. And with those million questions still on my lips, I’ve come to accept that perhaps some of them will go forever unanswered.

 

She sat on the bed with her pigtails bouncing

Kicking up her legs with her dress flouncing

 

Her momma gave her a book of the world

She opened the book and the first page unfurled

 

“On this infinite globe lies a big continent”

She read with glee and to the next page she went:

 

“Inside that land mass was a very big country,

A country with fields and a sun oh-so-sunny”

 

“And inside that country was a mighty large state

Which was really developing at quite a fast rate”

 

Cool, she thought, her head tilted askew

And so turned the page to see the book through

 

“Inside that big state was a booming big city

With buildings that were either pretty or gritty”

 

“And inside one building there was 50 floors,

Each leading to about 20 residential doors”

 

“In each of those doors a group of people joined

And this was the way the word ‘family’ was coined.”

 

THE END, read the girl who was very confused.

“What’s wrong,” asked her mother – she was very amused.

 

“But what’s inside of a person?” she turned to her mother,

“I really don’t know — you must ask another!”

 

So she did and she asked quite a while, all around

Till she realized there was no answer to be found.

 

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