by M.J. Wheatley

For far too many years
I have wanted to be flawless,
      Perfecting my pursuits,
      I bargained all for love.
For all those years
I made masks of my own doing,
      Pursuing my perfection,
      I found I was pursued.
And then
one day
I fell
      on the fertile
      ground of self.
Naked in dirt
no mask
no bargains
I raised my soiled face
and there
      you were.
I struggled to stand.
Dirt from my body fell
in your eyes.
Your hand reached for me.
your hand reached
There is, in all of us, the place of pure perfection.
We discover its geography together.

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