© 2016 Barbara Grace Lake

 

What is a life
Not life unanswered on this side of death
But all things rife
That lend to dreams solidity and breath

Just one full life
My own if gentler nature be not spared
What is this life
My own or compromise of meanings shared

Am I the sum
In part an aggregate of fragments torn
Relinquished from
All others’ woven fabric patched and worn

Is my life then
A patchwork, parts of lives, a composite
Completed when
The quilt can hold no more, or seams will split

But if I take
From them, would they not take some part from me
And thus remake
Their own bright patching to infinity

And to those parts
In measure to my own, what do I owe
By counterparts
Is life, all life, my life, one merged tableau?