Pieces

I hold the fragments of my life

like the shards of a mirror,

they are jagged and never truly fit together,

so I can’t see the complete picture

to totally understand their meaning

or the purpose for each piece.

 

Some are tear stained

from their shattered essence,

others possess the hints

at some image that is greater than myself.

 

Always left with scattered

over the place I call home,

just wishing they didn’t inspire questions

that had no answers

regardless of how long I look at them.

 

Riddles arise in my mind

each time I try to collect those fractured sections

out of the box within my heart

where I store their ripped and torn segments

in hopes somehow I can make them

all become some portrait I can understand.

 

But there is pain felt from touching them at times,

while others carry a feel of sadness

because I couldn’t solve their mystery.

 

Perhaps there will come a day of interpretation

when the Lord finally assembles what I can’t.

It is the only dream I can let keep me going

on the occasions I weep over my lack

of chance to see the truth that eludes me

in those parts that I can never make whole.