FLAWLESS OR FAULTED
For most of us,
You will never be able to thank your mother enough,
For risking her life to give you yours.
In the hope you will be something,
No one else has ever been.
Perfect. In every way.
You, of course,
Will recognize her faults,
Just as you see your own,
Too close and unable to turn away.
It was never really possible for her to be,
Whatever it is you might have conjured.
Flawless or faulted.
And what are these in comparison,
To what you have been given,
This moment to see the sun rising,
The hope and the gleam of your own possibility,
On the horizon.
You are mistaken to blame her or yourself,
For not knowing,
Things you could not possibly comprehend or understand.
Like the will it takes to move forward,
And believe you can make something good,
In an imperfect world.
