Picking up the crumbled pieces
that have somehow made it to the floor,
I wonder which ones to leave behind,
which ones I will not need anymore.
What a mess it seems to be,
this that was once organized and neat,
now scattered remnants of the life I knew
laying like puzzle pieces at my feet.
I see her face among them
and I scoop down to place her in my hand
but atlas too much of her is missing
and she blows away like sand.
I see the opportunities for better choices
scattered like precious gems all around
and though I want to take the moments back
I am forced to leave them on the ground.
I pick a piece up there
and pick a piece up here
I throw away the ugly
and cling to what is dear.
I scramble to tidy up
the mess that I have somehow made
before time and age cause
the lovely crumbs to wear away and fade.
There is some sense in this
beneath the chaos and the mess
and though I can not fix it all
I can surely do my best
to find the peace within each remnant
of the life that I have known
so I can look down to clearly see
how I have learned and how I’ve grown.
I think I wrote this years ago, during my divorce, when my world started to crumble a part ( perception only). I am not sure really. It certainly fits into my experience of packing away my memories and cleaning up this mess.
All is well!