On my hands and knees
I’m scouring in the dirt
searching for the root 
of who we are

Is the answer 
a code to be unlocked
in our blood, our genetic
makeup, a fate waiting to unfold?

Is it a weaving 
of every food we’ve consumed, every pesticide
exposure, every drunk cigarette, every one night stand,
of blind actions and inactions?

I’m stuck — face deep in the soil;
towering above, our family oak 
grows a new branch and 
a robin begins to build her nest