Progress

I have a piece of writing about progress.
I can’t get it together. The words fumble.
They sound like dressed up suits forcing out poetry –
Only farts.
Write, rewrite, on and on.
The thread of the piece is one out-of-control Animal.
A leg here, an ear there, a monster looking thing.
And the heart keeps walking out on me.
I keep trying to hold onto it and stuff it into a tin.
The cycle repeats. As I sit here typing, I realized,
Perhaps, the fear of letting the pieces fall apart is asking me to progress.
Progress towards acceptance. Accepting the unacceptable – the nonlinear progression of a messy piece
We call life.