Lifting the pieces one by one
from their box, careful to the
point you could be handling
a small child and not indelicate
carved cardboard, you spread
them out wide over the expanse
of unvacuumed carmine carpet.
As the picture begins to take
shape, emerging piece-by-piece
from its fractured state, a brief
smile explores the landscape
of your face, a glistening tribute
to your former self we all hope
will return home some day.
Seated with your legs crossed,
you disassemble Paris streetlamp
by dim streetlamp, shattering
the peaceful quiet of the city
at night like a polished rock
pitched through the front window
of a cafe beneath pale moonlight.
You return the puzzle box to
a shelf at the back of your closet.
The cafe owner puts out a sign
that reads "closed for renovations."
You are both simply trying to make
whole what now lies broken. And
that's okay, it's only human.
Very reflective. I loved seeing this small glimpse into this former self, this former memory or desire to travel to Paris, yet reality harshly awakens. That peace and dream is shattered. Clever juxtaposition with the sign and how "closed for renovations" applies to more than just simply that cafe, but the human heart itself. What does it mean to be broken? What does it take to fix? What does it mean to be and fully exist as "whole"?
There is something very heartbreaking about this poem. My take on it...perhaps there is someone close to you who's memory does not work as well as it used to and yet...you still hope, while observing them trying to piece a puzzle together that they will find their way back .