Incisions not made
Leave scars not seen
Over problems not fixed
In patients not healed.

And the great pain
Last suffered
Is the small pain

First ignored

In our pieces, we are seen:
  incomplete, inchoate, and
  framed by box and shadow —

Petals destined to fall on
  the waiting earth;
  localized, momentary scents
  dreaming they permeate the world —

Seeds scattered across plain and canvas,
  tinged with blood-decor,
  turning our faces towards
  secret suns and water,

Speaking our feelings into lives,
  even as our lives
  show flat through
  intrinsic limitations