People, Puzzles, and Pure Elucidation
If I were in a dictionary, I’d have to be the dictionary
Just as anyone else would, really
To try and squeeze a life into a word would be ludicrous
There’s so much more to us
Than a definition.
And even if I were a dictionary, it still wouldn’t be enough
A book isn’t vast enough, alive enough, it’s just not enough
To contain an entire, vivid human life
Within it’s blinding white pages
It knows not strife
It knows not worry
It know not the ups and downs and inconsistencies
Of what it is to be human
It owns none of these
It simply holds them, presents the likes of these
Borrowing them from a source far beyond its comprehension or control
These come from the hand that holds the pen, that glides across the keys
It is from the heart, not the page, that these words fall
But, let’s humor the idea
On the otherwise-impossible chance
That I could be contained in a definition, a word
What would you find?
Kam. Noun.
A wandering soul searching for her place
In a world that always felt too big,
But acts too small for her imagination
And for what she wants within it
She lives in an ever-expanding universe
That’s slowly closing in on her
Suffocating her with its narrow vastness
Compressing her as if she’ll turn to glass when enough pressure is applied
She’s been shattered into pieces enough
That she’s familiar with each one
Well enough that she thinks she has them in the right places this time
She’s a work in progress
A statue of shattered pieces
She has what she needs now
She has what she has figured out
She’s finally got something
But is always getting more pieces
And has to figure out where they go
In what felt like a complete picture before
She used to think she was broken
She still thinks that sometimes
But then she realizes
To be in pieces is not to be broken
After all
Do we consider a puzzle broken
When it’s not put together?
Of course not
The point of a puzzle is to be completed
We don’t consider it broken because it suits its purpose
As it is with human beings
We are not meant to be perfect or composed
We’re meant to be dynamic, and thorough
We are deep existences
We are long, drawn out, exhausting conversations
We are puzzles with pieces that shift and change and come and go
We are puzzles that have to put ourselves together
That’s the benefit of falling apart, you know
You get to see all the pieces that make you, you
And assess them from an outside perspective
Do that enough,
And you realize that some of them need to be moved around or rotated
None are pointless, only misplaced
If you look at a piece of a puzzle
And convince yourself it doesn’t fit
Or that it goes in one exact spot and nowhere else
You’ll have an incomplete puzzle at the end of the day
It’s all about finding its place
Because if you have it, it belongs somewhere
Words are like those puzzle pieces, in way
Individually, they don’t seem like much
It’s only when you put them together
That you finally see the big, beautiful picture
We call a person
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