The Onion

Long, long ago
While lost in my garden
A bit of white showed
Where the earth had hardened.

I picked at the dirt
And was surprised to find
An onion had grown there
Apparently mine.

Peeling the onion
Made me cry and hurt
So I buried it again
And ran from the earth.

But life follows a path
That seems to spiral and wind
And it leads me back to the garden
To my onion to find.

Many times when I’ve been there
I have felt so strong
And I’ve dug and I’ve peeled
Until I was sure it was gone.

But my garden must be perfect
For that onion to grow
Because every time I return there
It’s back in the hole.

And there’s the innermost layer
That always I see
The part I set aside
And just let it be.

What would happen
If I went down that path
And peeled apart the heart
Of that onion at last?

I think I just might die
Or at least that’s my fear
Maybe that keeps my onion
In my garden, near and dear.

Without the onion,
Who would I be?
My whole life out of whack
Or finally free?

The truth I don’t think
I ever will know
It sounds so impossible
To just make it go.

As much as it hurts
The prick, burn, and tears
I have held this onion
For all these years.

I’ll keep peeling the layers
A little at a time
But the heart of the onion
Wants to always be mine.