A little late, but only because yesterday was about putting the jigsaw together — this is an action poem, not just reflective wish-wash in a contemplative bath…

Jigsaw

From the outer edge, disarray
is demystified, order brought forth
from chaos – a tangle of shapes
laid flat, scanned, rearranged
fingered one by one, chosen hundreds
of times on times, curiosity leads
to compulsion, a faith practice that knows:
that bit of brown completes the bird,
and a line of gold goes here – no, not yet,
so you hold it hoping, seeking until…

you are disproportionately satisfied
by fitting one piece, tongue to groove,
seam to seal, with another, unintentionally
reaffirming a long held hope
that this crazy, sprawling, tangled pile
of life experiences will someday display
as a picture complete.

© 2016 – Laurel Archer