Poetry: Jagged Pieces

When I myself was very small, a puzzle out in the room.

Placed before me she encouraged me on, each piece a place they belonged.

Yet in my efforts I found naught but insecurity, as all the pieces, I saw,

they seemed the same, jagged and ugly, defective at best.

I found no effort to replace them all.

There it sat, high as the mantle, for what felt like years to come.

All this time it waited for effort as my life did move along

then some years they passed me by, and time felt like a traitor.

Where once I felt love, soon there was fear

no true place could I belong.

Different, too strange for the rest,

my mind did not find like sound nor ground.

I was scared of course, unsure and confused.

Where was I to fall to place?

Not long after did I think again, about that puzzle we left around.

Why has she kept it? For what was the end?

It was ugly, jagged and couldn’t belong.

But soon, I saw, that every abstract piece

it seemed to have a place of its own.

From line to line a picture it made, clear as a crystal door.

The more time I spent and looked and thought, the more beautiful it began to become

a picture it made, clear and concise where it hung before.

Soon after I looked to the piece and felt assured,

for each piece could not fall where I wished it to, but a place it found to and belonged.