White Linen Woman

Maybe I’ll never wear white linen pants.
Or I’ll try,
And at some far flung future garden party
I’ll spill the wine I’m drinking
To make myself feel more at ease,
All over those pristine pants.

Maybe people will never see my truth,
Never see the earnest intention
To be pure
To be full of grace
To be a perfect sight to behold

Maybe people will only see
The awkward eternally under developed woman
That trips and falls
That makes jokes
That tries to sound smart
But talks too much and muddles up her meanings

Maybe I will disappoint you
Or I won’t
But think I have and then act like some blemish
On the dream we once had

Or maybe I will grow into my fullness
Maybe I will release these immature fears
And live in a blaze of irreverent glory
Lighting the dark, worried ego
Who is only the human-half
Of the spirit striving for enlightenment

Maybe I will learn to forgive myself,
And learn to trust you all the way.
Maybe I’ll tell you my most secret fears
One night when our hearts are open
And the wind outside our window
Is fiercely calling back to me my foolishness

Maybe I will one day love myself
So completely
That I can accept your love;
And mixing it with my own
Will create a potent potion of
Reciprocal self-belief
So we never have to be afraid.

We can expect greatness,
Fall short,
Then cradle the innocent child
Who dreamt the dream
That continues to hang, thickening
The air that surrounds
Our weary traveling souls

Just because we’re not perfect
Doesn’t mean we’re worthless.