searching for pieces
pieces of myself
a jigsaw I left undone somewhere

found one long ago
holes are everywhere
It burst through with astounding ferocity

I wish to never feel the torrents at the edge of the abyss
two women struggling to survive
both clawing pieces

one scrambling for the surface
the other with a death grip

when I am old I will become the sea
each grain of sand my child shall be
for each lost I will writhe and foam

to still water I now retreat
holding, abating the torrents
that threaten to bring me usunder

time now to reflect
grasping briefly at pieces so vile
feeling, screaming silently for release

the grip abates as I pant and try not to puke
loss of power
the trauma cycle

like an infant
education in survival of the mind beast
in school should have been taught

taking the road of weedy gardens
shadows
hyenas in the red rose garden

and the spider spins