Resting in pieces

We are birthed head first puzzles sent out as screaming vesicles
Placenta cut and like fossils entombed in sediment – still incomplete
See, even temples built in clay and thoughts
Often don’t realize they are perched sparrows till they’re missing feet
Every cell is a another part of this blessing known as your being
And every self reflected is a mirror of another heart beating to be seen
Choked now, as lungs that are lacking surfactant try to blow life into your breathing
Sometimes it is not even our own selves that know the purpose of our meaning
Any puzzle that thinks it’s solved is a desert that hasn’t realized it’s still missing what it’s needing
It’s a drowning ocean that struggles to find how another stays afloat while missing the most obvious of pieces…
That architects leave stone and mortar, not themselves as reminders of their genius
So you can dig in each tomb only to find the bones that Anubis didn’t ensheath in
Or you can hear me for the voice I leave in thoughts that reach deepest
Optic chiasm crossed sentiments seen from my Horus eye that had shattered into a million pieces
Choked on a wishbone stuck past in my piriform recess
But you weren’t there to sift through the debris that left me covered from the icy breezes
Or while I was digging to get to an iridium layer knowledge of the self so I could present it as proof that my lesions
Had in fact healed in time from the fall not deepened like the darkness of a snowy evening
I’m getting tired of putting my heart on my sleeve and letting it shine to those like a beacon
That are searching for another puzzle piece to solve me through the life blood writings that left me anemic
Trying to pull out one more missing piece from a larynx to hear these lessons in speeches
While I feel I am but a seed of a pharynx that grows toward the sun but never reaches
Because the ‘self complete’ is not a square jigsaw that’s works its way to completion
It is a composite of trial and error, falling to stand, and standing for something to believe in
A lover is a unique thing, but only one side of yourself and this is why grief can always sneak in
Being read is but another way to connect, but there is no promise that being heard will let relief in
I’m just tired and I still didn’t get any sleep in
Knowing I have miles to go through the woods of reason
Covered in frost and on own two legs that are standing on trial for treason
I just want some peace, to let my words do the talking and my thoughts do the leading

Because we are puzzling pieces and for us there is no true ‘lock and key’ thesis
And I’m so tired of digging, I just want to close my eyes and rest in these pieces

Resting in pieces

S .

Joined January 2009

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