Jigsaw

I think the words
but they don’t go together,
and if the words don’t fit
how can they be true?
A senseless babble,
gibberish,
a buzzing in the brain
as I write with trembling hands.

Stay focused.

There are no solutions here,
only mismatched pieces
of the puzzle of you.
Too many things are missing:
mismatched
misplaced
mistakes were made
and the pieces I’ve been offered
don’t look the same.

I’m told the final piece
must go here now,
but my questions could fill oceans.
Instead I stuff them in teacups,
smile politely
and say it’s all okay.

The answers, when they come,
will engender further questions
(more missing pieces than I can count)
and ahead of me is a long road
with many years to wonder.


This was written for Sunday Scribblings 2.