Most days I am a kaleidoscope
filled of bits of all ‘my people’.
I twist and turn to change the view,
but it is them I see.
the color of her hair…
the sound of his voice….
the way we all felt together that time….
the looks you used to give me…
and the ones you do now.
Who would I be without these people?
and who else has debris that belongs in me,
that went unnoticed while my head was down
or after I stopped collecting parts for myself
so I could focus on filling up theirs?
And who have I forgotten,
from those many years before?
Who carries me with them still,
twisting and turning to see the world reflected
in the glimmer of pieces of my soul
which they kept for themselves?