I wish I could fix us, the broken ones.
Many didn’t even know we suffered
cracks in the vessels we call selves.
They hid behind our backs or within.
I’ve seen so many of us missing parts lately,
smiles, hopes, love, even the capacity
for each, and I know not a way to find
all the pieces lying broken within
this circle of horizon surrounding us.
But if I could, I’d gather them together,
and then all of us as well, and I hope
we could complete some grand jigsaw
puzzle until our pictures we completed,
interlocking scars and all.
A five-minute burst of one of my 100-word freedom writes. I guess I read so many poets and see so many people in a poet’s way, that I detect the damage that shapes them into something not grotesque, but not the healthy beauty they might really have. I know, hokey as hell. But, if I could, I would. It’s the guilt and duty thing I’ve run on for over 50 years. Poem #7 for poem-a-day NaPoWriMo 2016.