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

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