The Jigsaw

I had a favourite jigsaw

A tyrollean view of a small home 

Surrounded by snow and trees

Mountains in the background 

When I was a child

I would make it regularly 

And dream of living there

To escape and be safe

Over the years 

Real life came

And seeking refuge in a jigsaw

Was no escape 

When we cleared out my mother’s house

I held the box in my hands

It was smaller than I remembered 

But I could see smaller, younger hands

Lift the lid and begin to sort

The pieces

Edges, corners, sky

The light in the window

Someone was home

Safe

Safe from the snow

Safe from the woods

Safe from the mountains 

It went to charity

But the pieces are still in my head

And sometimes 

In the dark

As something tries to rob me of hope

I start to sort

Edges, corners, sky

The light in the window

And hope

Am I still safe

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