Puzzles

It’s a question of control, or should I say
the lack of it in this fractured fear-filled
world that draws me each free afternoon
to focus on a wooden puzzle, solid, tactile,
tangible, and for an hour piece together
all that has been torn asunder, city, sunset,
ocean, forest, to play at being the hand of
God, as if in prayer, a sacred act to gather
up the scattered fragments, and reconnect,
make whole again.