• Iris Adams

An Ode to the Things We Do Not Know

The ocean waves crash against the stones

And the rock doesn’t know it is sturdy

As it weathers the storm

As the winds howl across its face

And water seeps over it with haste

It doesn’t know that it will remain


The ocean waves don’t know

They will be whole again

As they only experience the crashing,

The breaking, the scattering

And do not know they will

Return to the sea with time


The sky doesn’t know it will

Flush and wain

But it will always return

Not quite the same but

Just as bright as before,

And it does not know

For each and every shade of itself

Someone will be down below,

Admiring.


The butterfly doesn’t know why it builds

It’s cocoon, but it spins

The silky cage all the same,

Submitting to the darkness of itself

In the hopes it will come back

Out again, not the same

Not the same

Not the same

But with the promise of

Drying its wings in the sun

And taking to the winds


And sometimes she doesn’t know

Why she gets out of bed again,

Sometimes she doesn’t know why

She washes her battered body

And swallows food

Seeming as tasteless

As a curse word in church.


But the stone doesn’t know that it is sturdy

As it weathers the storm

And the waves don't know they will be

Whole again.

The sky doesn’t know that it will return

And butterflies don't know

Don't know

Don't know.


And she gets out of bed again.

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