Mosaic

Poetry by | October 17, 2010

Splintered into a myriad pieces
A noiseless breaking
Into bloody shards and salty droplets
The world stands still.

Resting on the ground
Feebly glistening in the sun
Turning every which way
Searching for the whole
Nothing resounds.

Weaving out of the mosaic
Drawing one jagged edge to another
Fitting, repairing, healing
Fitting, repairing, discarding
The endless whirring of a mending machine.

The myriad remains.
Less bloody.
Still unwhole.
The world moves on.

—-
Vida Mia Valverde is an AB Philosophy graduate of Ateneo de Davao University.

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