“Desire” by Alice Walker

My desire
is always the same; wherever Life deposits me:
I want to stick my toe and soon my whole body into the water.
I want to shake out a fat broom
and sweep dried leaves bruised blossoms dead insects and dust.
I want to grow something.
It seems impossible that desire can sometimes transform into devotion; but this has happened.
And that is how I’ve survived: how the hole I carefully tended
in the garden of my heart grew a heart to fill it.