I spend my days collecting pieces
to make up my world
and trying to piece them together
Meticulously,
with childlike curiosity
for meaning-making
I try and try,
finding the fit,
as closely as I can
And then I draw over them
intricate patterns,
with my schemas
There are some patches
Where the meaning is coming off;
But I draw on naked land, anyway
Pretty, shabby, beautiful, messy
incoherent, abstract, connected, meaningful
my little world of mismatched pieces
Some days it falls apart
the pieces I put together
my process, too much,
Today I felt you come around,
your hands too real, too coarse for my jigsaw,
but a semblance, a delusion of my world being held
while I start it piece it back again.
Jayati Doshi
4th March, 2016. 8.02 pm
(a tad bit) like life. 