And floated away into cerulean skies.
I ran after the dark flecks,
like a child chasing a runaway kite.
Until I remembered what she’d said—
that I was iron. I must fight.
I found a magnet with a burning core.
And my pieces came floating back.
Slowly, buffeted by the wind.
And settled with sorrowful sighs
somewhere around my middle.
But some were lost forever.
Caught on the underside of leaves.
And in the gnarled barks of trees.
On the fleecy backs of grazing goats,
And washed away in creeks.
The surprise is I do not feel maimed.
I’m at peace with my unwholeness.
When I miss me, I walk out into the fields.
And turn my face upwards,
Or crouch down on my knees.
The part of me that’s free
Swoops down joyfully.
And the part of me trapped inside
Flaps about listlessly.