Raining Down in Pieces

Raining Down in Pieces

(“You have heard the desire of oppressed people, O Lord. You encourage them. You pay close attention to them.” Psalm 10:17)

I’m raining down in pieces,
pellets that hit the sizzling ground and
are gone before anyone notices.
Today was tiny and massive,
today was storm clouds and placid
hopes
that someone, (you know who you are)
would walk through my door, see the empty eyes
I hide from everyone,
and fill them with the kind of quiet that
embraces everything.

Perhaps we could busk down by the river,
next to the brewery,
late in the afternoon. But I would stall,
I am out of practice, and nothing comes easy
at all.

I’m opening the puzzle,
pieces that used to fit but now, edges worn,
are more or less fragments. The picture on the box
was colored over decades ago by children with nothing
else to do.
I never minded. Children were always the ones
who taught me the tunes I almost had forgotten.

I slide the pieces back into the box and a dozen fall
on the floor below the table. I’m tempted to leave them
there.

Perhaps we could play chess at the coffee shop;
I haven’t played in ages. I fear I would have to concede before
we were halfway done. We could leave the board set up,
I guess,
but I don’t know when you’ll be back and when I’ll wander
downtown again.

I’d venture out, meet someone new, but, like I said,
I’m raining down in pieces,
and can only be seen these days by someone who
sees me these days the
way I am.