A chamber of trees
conduct a symphony of leaves
Bows framing branches
Sway a tune, timid breeze

Born into
unsteadiness,
hands sprinkled
with tremors

inspired by a crayon,
a pencil
then a brush

Now an artist steady,
paints with a wand
to seal his
magic touch

Sometimes I wonder what combination of materials created me.

What starburst and dust cloud and water and chemical reaction, what act of Gods put me here.

I wonder if maybe my dust cloud was a hair too dusty, and that’s what caused the never ending blackness of my soul during a panic attack.

I wonder if the water was a bit on the polluted side, and there came my depression, murky like a swamp, sticky and squelching as I argue myself out of it, again.

I wonder if the chemical reaction was just a little off, if some mineral didn’t quite align with some reactant and it created the starburst of ADHD, the consistent and never ending swirl in my brain that I have limited control over.

I wonder if the Bang from which I was created was more like a sputter, a car back firing as opposed to a rocket launching, good enough but not quite right.