Annie Gedicks
and Elizabeth Wexler

Annie Gedicks

By Elizabeth (Betsy) Wexler

Inspiration piece

The pieces, they fall away

Sometimes so slowly and quietly I don’t even notice until many are gone

I see the big gaping holes where they once were

And then I wonder: how I could have missed the falling

Sometimes, though

They are seemingly ripped from me

Torn out in chunks, in what feels like cruelty

But what is, in reality, a gift

How can something so healing

Feel like a robbery?

How can something so necessary

Be so rife with pain that I wonder if I will come out the other side?

And soon, new pieces appear

Fresh, brighter colors…softer texture

Brand new, or so it feels

And each time, I promise myself I’ll remember the next time

The next time the chunks feel torn away from me

But I don’t.

I forget. I get angry and scared and try to keep those old rough, faded pieces

I fear, in that moment, that it’s all I have.

I forget, in that moment, that once….those old pieces were bright and soft and new

I am trying to learn to remember, and trust

That whatever pieces I need, at any given time, are within me.

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