Getting Me Back (the original poem)
Tissue thin transparent bits and pieces
by the millions I gave to you…
To be received, to be tended or
to be rendered useless as you deemed fit
old inhabitants of terra firma.
Slivers of my soul….
What did you do with these pieces of me?
Where are the misplaced microscopic stars of
my spirit, where are they laid?
Did they dissolve beneath a soft autumn rain?
Or burn in the heat of a cruel summer day?
Were they consumed by the dust mites of fate?
Giving me away was easy….
Getting me back seems nearly impossible.
I saw a fleck of glitter this morning,
caught in an abandoned web of time.
I retrieved it ever so carefully, pulling away
the tiny choking strands; polishing it in the palm of my
hand till it shone bright like a
minuscule star… exploding… and
I recognized it as the twinkle I once saw
in a smiling photo of me.