Many Pieces One Man

There  are many pieces collected from many places

There are many moments in the mosaic of a life

Some are smooth like glass unbroken

Some have jagged edges with bits of crimson

Some days the mosaic is inside of us

Other days we wear it on our faces

The pieces are all parts of us put together

But we don't know how they are placed

We don't know why they stick to us

Or why we can't run water and wash them off

But we can see the pattern though we can't control it

We don't make those decisions because life does that

But wherever they come from or when we are them

We are the pain and agony that stays and won't go away

We are the laughter that makes our bellies shake again and again

We are the fears and hurts, the doubts and dreams

We are the nightmares that rob us of sleep

But we are also the good days that that make us happy

Some days we look at our portrait in the mosaic of pieces

Some days we weep over what we see and say "That's not me!"

Some days we ask, "Who am I? Who is this man or women?"

Some days we feel O so good about what we see in mosaic

Some days we celebrate the journey that is captured in moments

But in the end we know we are the pieces in the mosaic that man or woman