When I was thirty, I didn’t know

That perfection was a state

Not required for perfect joy.

I did not know my worth,

But weighed it out in praise and promises.

At twenty, I thought

Marriage was forever and fixed,

That it grew in the utter absence

Of the soil and sun of love.

At ten, my toolbox contained one thing:

A road map for escape.

Now, I can keep my space clear

Love you without

Listing your faults,

Let you walk your own road.

I can love myself

No matter what kind of mood

You’re in.

I can deal with criticism


And praise;

I can embrace my flawed self

And actually look long

Into my own eyes.

At fifty, I am finally ready

To be twelve.

This entry was posted in Poems From the Meditation Space and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Perfection

  1. Pat Cegan says:

    Oh, this moves to the top of my list of my favorite poems of yours. I especially like:

    I can love myself
    No matter what kind of mood
    You’re in.

    I always find it bothersome when someone wants to “fix” my mood. Mostly they need to just live their own life and let me work through whatever is happening. I need to love them enough to do that for them, too. Much to think about in your poem…as always. hugs, pat

  2. Alix Moore says:

    Dear Pat,
    Thank you as always for the lovely energy of your participation in my site.
    Aries that I am, I’ll be fifty soon, and I embrace the wisdom that the years have brought me. Hmmm, that’s too passive–the wisdom I have dug from the dirt of my life is more like it.
    Soon, I’ll be a crone! Much food for poetry in that, I expect.
    Is all well with you?
    Much love,

  3. jeglatter says:

    Yes!:) Reading this I shouted “Yay!” for myself. Thanks.:)

  4. Alix Moore says:

    How lovely!
    You are so welcome.

  5. Geraldine says:

    wonderful! and such good advice for all of us too. 🙂

  6. Alix Moore says:

    Thank you, I’m glad it resonates.

  7. Perfect! You are only as old as your imagination.

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