Annie Gedicks
Response
Pieces
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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