On the hospital shelf
are several hopeful jigsaws.
We select one.
We grab a handful;
the rough on one side.
On the other hand the silken,
it feels fractured turning in our fingers.
Stretching out on the floor
we locate the four corners
like laying the foundations
of a house.
Brooding over hues,
studying shapes.
Sorting, grouping, and ordering.
Assembling, like ingredients,
we build the outline.
Honing in on the detail,
frustration mounting,
“Haven’t you finished that yet?”
hogging the room for ages.
Looking for that special one,
Eyes squinting.
Look here, a spire.
There, a waiter serving.
We become experts,
yet in our expertise,
the bigger picture gets forgotten,
and sometimes we find out
that we’ve gone wrong.
Shake the box again,
confusion reigns,
splitting, dividing
like our thoughts.
Scattered pieces,
sectioned.
It is now we must make the effort.
As the puzzle
starts to knit together.
Corners built out
and sides are connected.
Gratefully.
What has been severed,
we will place together.
What has been sundered
we will make whole.
In times we can come undone
study each fragment then
let the connections reveal themselves
in this jigsaw called life.
There’s only so many jigsaws
on the hospital shelves.
Look here, see a blue flag.
There, is a window with a woman waving.
We wave back.
As slowly, patiently we heal.
.