The Years That Ask, The Years That Answer #W3Prompt

There Are Years That Ask Questions and Years That Answer

(A Poem in Echoes, in Fractures, in Time Unraveling Like a Loose Thread)

I. The Year of Questions

You wake up one day, and everything is a question mark.
The mirror tilts its head at you,
your coffee hesitates before it burns your tongue.
The door creaks, undecided.
Even the sky—a stretch of muted gray—
leans in and whispers, Are you ready?
You are not.

There are years like this.
Years that sit at the foot of your bed and stare,
unblinking, waiting for you to speak first.
Years that trail behind you,
tugging at your sleeves like a child
who wants answers you do not have.

Who are you?
Why did you stay?
Why did you leave?
Do you love them?
Do you love yourself?
Do you know the difference?

The questions slither under doorways,
curl up inside your shoes,
drip from the faucet at 3 AM.
You try to walk away,
but even your footsteps ask, Where are you going?

There are years when your body is a radio,
picking up static from some distant station—
words you almost recognize,
but not quite.
You stand at the edge of the ocean,
watching waves erase your footprints
before you have the chance to know where you stood.

Everything is a riddle.
Everything is a test.
Everything is waiting to see if you will answer.

II. The Year of Silence

Not all years speak.
Some years fold their arms and watch.
Some years press their lips together
like a secret they refuse to share.
Some years bury their voices in the dirt,
waiting to see if you will dig deep enough to find them.

This is the year where the phone does not ring.
Where letters are written but never sent.
Where the house settles into itself,
where even the walls forget your name.

Silence is not always empty.
Sometimes, it is full of all the things
that have not been said.

The apology stuck in your throat.
The confession you swallowed.
The truth you almost touched,
but let slip through your fingers like water.

This is the year where you sit still,
where you listen for something—anything—
but all you hear is the soft ticking of a clock
that does not care whether you stay or go.

And in the hush of it all,
you begin to understand:
silence is a language, too.

III. The Year of Answers

Then, without warning, the tide turns.
One morning, you wake up and the questions
that once pressed against your ribs
are suddenly nowhere to be found.
The silence that wrapped itself around you
loosens its grip.
You exhale, and the breath does not shake.

There are years that answer.
Years that arrive not with fanfare,
but with a quiet knowing.
Years that slip their hand into yours
and say, Look.

Look how the sun keeps rising.
Look how the wounds have closed.
Look how the mirror no longer asks who you are,
but instead, offers a nod of recognition.

The answers do not come all at once.
They do not arrive in a neatly sealed envelope,
or a thunderous revelation.
They come in moments—
soft, steady, undeniable.

The first time you laugh without hesitation.
The first time you sleep without ghosts.
The first time you say your own name
and it does not sound like an apology.

You realize that the questions were never meant
to be solved like equations,
but to be lived.

You were never looking for answers.
You were waiting for time
to teach you how to hold them.

IV. The Years That Do Both

But what about the years
that do not choose a side?
The years that ask and answer,
that build and break,
that hold you close and then let you go?

What about the years that feel like a song
you almost remember,
but can’t quite hum the tune?

What about the years that take you apart,
only to show you how to put yourself back together?
The years that make you forget everything
just so you can remember what matters?

You.
You are the sum of all your years.
The ones that asked.
The ones that answered.
The ones that stood in silence,
watching you grow.

And when the next year arrives,
whether it comes with questions or answers,
you will know this:

You have survived them all before.
And you will survive this one, too.

Even if it whispers.
Even if it roars.
Even if it asks more than it gives.

You will answer,
just by living.

#Poetry #TimeSpeaks #SelfDiscovery #HealingJourney #Growth #LifeLessons #QuestionsAndAnswers #SilentYears #Transformation