There are pieces of me scattered over the planet.
There’s a decent sized chunk of my heart in San Francisco.
My arms are in Grahamstown, my feet in the Rockies.
A wedge of my wonder is in the Grand Canyon
and a slab of my stomach I left in L.A.
A portion of courage resides now in Ålborg.
A slice of my childhood inhabits Ulm.
In D.C. there’s a shard of compassion
and in Atlanta there’s a section of my gratitude.
I’ll never be whole till the parts come together
but I am quite loath to summon them here
for while they are sprinkled all over this vast orb
I may consider the entire Earth my home.