Pieces.

Like a scattered puzzle
Pieces of my heart
Are spread across
The vast spaces
Of time and innocence

From which
I do not know
Which piece to pick up first
Do I begin with the middle
Or the edges?

Like a church mosaic
Pieces of my mind
Are lost across
The vast unknown
Of generations and curses

Staring up at the light
That bursts through the steeple
The colours illuminate
The particles of my tears
Leftover on the altar

From which
I try to recall
The first time
I tried to put together the pieces
Of a puzzle so impossible

Where do I begin?
I ask
His voice whispers
You don’t have to do anything
I’m picking up the pieces now.