Finger Trap

From the beginning I was shy.

I was stranger. I did not know

my father. From childhood,

I was petal, leaf, diamond gap

in metal fence. I bent low

to the ground for dandelion

and clover. From the start,

I wanted to see things up close.

I wanted to say what I saw,

ask questions, ask why. From

very early on, once the story

had been told, I wanted to ask

God about the meaning of it all.

I knew he would show me

the truth, answer all my questions.

I knew this would happen

at my death. I feared death

but yearned to know the mystery.

From the beginning, I was stuck,

fingers in a bamboo trap,

pulling, but I can’t get loose.

— Babs