Broken Puzzle

Year after year John's Prize Geranium blooms on

 

“Past Life Lives in the Living”   —Wendell Barry  

I’ve been reading Barry’s “Sabbath Poems” these days.  They speak to the pondering that goes on within as I pick up the pieces scattered about by the earthquake that took John and left my own core scattered in the wind.  These jigsaw cells, once us, now strewn, must be collected and re-configured to discover whose were whose and which live on. And how.  It is a puzzle. A broken puzzle.

 Broken Puzzle

Putting the pieces back together

when half have disappeared

is nye unto impossible

Yet hearts, they say, do mend

though not without deep scar 

tissue filling gaps of

Missing Pieces

JoMae
9/10/17