Most days I am a kaleidoscope

filled with bits of all ‘my people.’

I twist and turn to change the view

but it is them I see:

the color of her hair...

the sound of his voice...

the way we all felt together that time...

the looks you used to give me...

and the ones you do now.

Who would I be without these people?

And who else has debris that belongs in me?

And who have I forgotten

from those many years before?

Who carries me with them still,

twisting and turning to see the world reflected

in the glimmer of pieces of my soul

which they kept for themselves?