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.