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Jigsaw, a poem and one perspective…

Jigsaw, a poem and one perspective on my Global Puzzle Theory

I have believed
For a very long time
That I am one piece
Of a very large puzzle

Uniquely made
For my particular spot
In this world
My only real job

To fill it
Surrounded by the lushness
Of deep greens and spring greens

The wonder of wildlife
And a gracious gift
I struggle to steward
And deserve

I see myself analogous
To the world
My insides made up
Of many individual contributors

I am a jigsaw puzzle
Of the most difficult degree
Many shades and shadows
Few delineating lines

I see the picture on the cover of the box
But can’t bring it into focus
What is it
What am I

Supposed to be
When all put together
Before I am undone
Apart again

Put away
For the last time

Where are my edges
Do I have all the pieces
Or have some fallen
On the busily-patterned rug

That is a metaphor
For my mind
Or has a trick
Been played

By somehow
Adding extra pieces
Superfluous pieces
That must be discovered

Then disregarded
For me to see
Only the essential
Thousands of pieces of


Outside as the greens
Are courted by the breeze
There is a wonder
And an uncertainty

Fitting a world dynamic and alive
Even on the darkest of nights
Regardless of how long or short
The lives here live

Inside where the air is conditioned
The art is hung just so
The silver shines
And the crystal is clear and

Intertwined with the centuries of life
Gone before me here
And the dust and
Dog hair of the day

It’s too dark now (or is it)
To put together this puzzle
I feel my way is futile
Will never get me there

Wherever there is
What’s next
I know



© 2014 Laura Overstreet Biering, Brinson’s Race