O, the involuntariness of life.
I did not ask for any of this. I
was not sinned from my mother’s womb to strife
between such small moments of bliss.
I cannot canter, all horsely and proud,
made to garden the fruits of my labour.
My soul was born to yearn loud, not
sink to another’s cold favour.
God willing, by the end of my days
I will leave achievements like letters –
small mercies for the suffering of babes
to learn how to generation better.
Peace comes at this fair price –
not without effort, or calling; but
through silent lessons, taught to them twice –
elders way showing before falling.
And so, to these children of time:
mistakes beget paths, straight and narrow.
I was birthed as Creator of mine
to lead such a flight like a sparrow.
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 10 July, 2017
Life and Death, Poetry and tagged birth, calling, labour, lessons, life, mistakes, peace, sin, suffering on .
July 10, 2017 1 Comment
mistakes are forever
and regret is the undercoat
that primes your life
it might seem calmer
on the surface
to forget the original dream
than to colour it over with
shades of new intention
when all you want to do
is bleed the red out of your eyes
until the copper rusts your face
and runs finally clear;
a dried salty ash
the only pock-marked
stain on your bloody canvas
the minimalist collector
your highest bidder
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 15 July, 2015
Every mistake you make
is one I will own
every one I own
is one less
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 13 December, 2013
All mistakes are resulting variations of free will.
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 10 September, 2012
Nothing corrects a mistake like making it.
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 30 July, 2011
Erring is judged by a standard of perfection that has never existed.
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 26 November, 2011