I think I have written and shared “this” poem about six different ways. Do we ever stop looking for ourselves? Anytime I write about my “parts” I get a flashback to Ashlee Simpson’s song “Pieces of Me” and it makes me want to never share any of it. Thanks for reading anyways!

I see clothes mistakenly strewn along the freeway,
a solo Birkenstock abandoned on the roadside.
I think of all the parts of myself I have lost along the way.

I’ve always been “forgetful” – but putting my keys in the crisper drawer is different than losing my fearless joy.
Have you seen my power? My desires?
I certainly cannot live without my wild.

Elemental pieces of me, divinely bespoke and life-giving
scattered across decades,
handed to people or places.
Stashed away for safekeeping.

I am on my way back to her – inward –
picking up the radiant pieces as I find them.

Today I saw the ocean curl over herself
and I remembered who I am.
All is never lost,
only briefly forgotten.