Childsplay Poem by Christa Lou

When I could no longer understand the pastel language of nursery colours
or hear the whispers of the dandelions painted on my wall,
I scoffed at children who took their lives as lightly as jigsaw puzzles
playing their days away like nothing else mattered at all.

I shook my head with all the poise of a sage
as if within it rested the burden and wisdom of years;
I said to myself, “Someday, they’ll see, perhaps—
When grief has dampened their lives with tears.”

But the world isn’t a spoonful of bitter medicine
unless, of course, you make it so—
And having a puzzle piece in either hand
can mean everything you think you know.