Paper Stars

Paper Stars

We were making paper stars:

 Some were almost perfect. 

Others reflected the unsteadiness

 of 8 year old wobbly hands with child-safe scissors. 

And with each imperfection the delight of the task slowly faded. 

We would not have perfection.
We would have almost good enough,

A chip away at a much bigger idea.

The idea of not good enough. 

In these years of living there

That idea became a mantra of

Disappointment turned inward

Of it’s ok and shouldn’t have expected so much

Turning dark on the inside

And waiting for something better to happen

That never did

In the light of imperfection

Everyone seems happier than you.

But no one needs to point out

8 year old imperfections

Only delights and beauty and wonder

Of how these things come to be

The perfection of being imperfect

in the creation of anything

for the delight and enjoyment of creation.

For where would we be if we did not look up and wonder

And then create reflections of what we have seen.

@2012 Jennie Olson Six