I want to be whole again,
the way I was when I was conceived,
or was I whole then?
The strengths,
but also the weaknesses of all my ancestors
were present in that moment of creation.

I want to be whole again,
the way I was when I was a flicker of imagination
in god’s consciousness.
But was I conscious in that moment?
Maybe not.
Maybe that is not the wholeness that I want.

I want to be whole again,
but I have never been whole.
Will I ever be whole?
Certainly not in this life,
but in the next?
Wholer, but whole?
I can’t imagine it,
which doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.
But wholly possible?
I’m skeptical.

I want to be whole again,
which means that I have a deep desire
to be melded into sacred reality so fully
that I am not,
which one might think was the opposite of whole!
Only when I am shattered
into uncountable fragments too minute to almost exist
will I be whole.

I want to be whole again—
then, but also now.
The impossible, I know.
Yet is it really impossible to have some part of me,
some piece of me to become that wholeness
that I so desire?
Can a tiny shard of non-me
become the wholeness I long for?
Can a splinter of Non-me
prophesy the truth?

Poem by Jill Kimberly Hartwell Geoffrion