By: Mia Sisul

I see the pieces on the ground,
So broken, scattered, torn.
The pieces long forgotten,
Continents and oceans overworn.

Nepal, Hawaii, St. Lucia
In a long, congested heap.
The passed families stay afloat,
Souls torn by the Reap. 

With tears welling in my eyes,
Like the Victoria Falls I hold, 
I arrange my lakes and plateaus,
Longing for new gems now old. 

In its brokenness, I begin to see
The final picture unfold. 
But the jagged ridges jar my sight,
My pieces still dormant and cold. 

I do the best I can
To tape the world together.
My puzzle taking shape,
But I can’t hold it forever. 

Spools and spools of glue and tape,
Creating quite the mess —
There is not much that I can do
But make the distance less.