all this before the last piece falls

in the pause of the moment
I find myself standing up against
the rough and frantic passing
while time rips itself into pieces
again and again
floating to the ground like tiny pieces
of paper
part of me wants to jump up and try
to capture each one
fall to the ground to assemble
the puzzle
the fragments
the thoughts
part of me wants to make more
wind, to wave my arms
to move the pieces higher
to the sky
upward and outward
away, unleashed
unsaid, unread, unknown
and still another part of me
wishes to be in that moment
just before
before the shredding and the waste
the emptiness
to fall to my knees then
thankful for the moment’s fullness
full and round like a tear
waiting to fall
long held in
falling now
rolling over the edge just as
the arms of the clock move
forward again and again
in this cascade of time
I stand
in truth I stand alone
and surrounded
like the centre of
a wheel
with each second, each minute
each hour, each day
the rim that holds the spokes
and hub in place
but tonight, as the day has
slowed to its familiar end
I realize now it is the air
the space surrounding it all
that gives its shape, its form
its stability, its longevity
without it the wheel
or any other fragment
would not be what it is
and nor would I
all this before the last piece

Leigh-Anne Tyson


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