Thursday Poem

Reassurance

I must love the questions
themselves
as Rilke said
like locked rooms
full of treasure
to which my blind
and groping key
does not yet fit

and await the answers
as unsealed
letters
mailed with dubious intent
and written in a very foreign
tongue

and in the hourly making
of myself
the thought of Time
to force, to squeeze
the space
I grow into.

by Alice Walker
from Her Blue Body Everything We Know
Harcourt Books, 1991

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