Fragments
a way to remember what has long been forgotten
Fragments
Are they heaven sent, or hell bent
A victim of the system or born from my convictions
Who am I to create, debate, and question what comes from the sky?
Will they ever be enough? Will they generate trust?
Are they fragments, broken and unspoken
Buried in a world of distraction and complacency
This fire lost to a desireless society
I wonder and I ponder with great expectancy, yet for you, fragments they may be
An instinct and reflex
Something lives on these pages
A thread that has existed throughout the ages
Can you feel it?
But without control how will anyone ever know the grace that is laced around these words of uncertainty
Answers, questions, or simply seeking mystery
Words give the gift of shaping the unseen
They give us something tangible yet contain the magic of the unexplainable
Words have always been a gift to keep our spirit alive to help our stories thrive
The glue between years and years history
Fragments, are they the way I write?
Like good food, words can stick to our ribs
Porous, feral, and full of life
Full of errors and mistakes, a certain kind of fate
When the spelling is less than compelling, just know these words come from a fire born of desire
Emotions that rage to find a way onto this page
Scratching and tearing
Seeking a life of repairing
Come sit with me and you will see, everything is about the mystery
All we have to do is remember to ask
It is in this space we have room for faith and a hope for our humanity
Please come sit with me, have a read, these fragments may be just what you need
You are the glue that makes them into something new, writing has always been a gift to the reader and writer
It was born of reciprocity
These poems and papers, fragments they may be
Broken with no outcome, no performance to see
But what if we change the language, in the shift of a word would all of this be heard?
Are they parts, not fragments, not broken but spoken
A voice with a choice, woven with invisibility through threads of curiosity
Threads that continue to seek mystery
They are parts, not fragments, never broken, only meant to be spoken
Carved into our reality
A way to remember what has long been forgotten
They are parts, the parts of my heart.