Completely Incomplete.

I’m holding the puzzle out in my hands.

Each piece is colored with life.

Each one has complied with life’s tough demands,

With my joy and my love and my strife;

My highs and my lows, my fear and my will

This puzzle encompasses my very being.

Yet with each breath these vibrant pieces kill

Because there is a significant piece missing.

It’s hard to survive with one’s heart in her hands,

When that puzzle is incomplete.

The suffocation is considerably hard to withstand

And Death is a difficult one to defeat.

Where are you, lone piece, that capsules that love

Of those days of yesterday?

Of those times we ventured out into the sun

And played where the wild things play?

That piece – which does hold him in a time,

In a memory under such heavenly stars,

Like a dream without any direction or rhyme

But left with painfully wakening scars.

That piece – which does hold him in this cage

And pumps life through my every vein –

Won’t keep me alive while it’s in his land so strange

Some ten thousand miles away.

Pump, pump .. pump … pump …

[written on 12/16]