Imperfect time and place.
My father is dead,
still he speaks through me;
“Don’t say anything....OR ELSE!”
There was plenty of
“OR ELSE!” to go around.
If not for this
terrible warning,
I would and could not
have come to utter
these brave words
here before you now.
My mother is dead,
yet she consoles me;
“I did what I could,
though I know
it wasn’t near enough.”
I owe them my life.
I owe them my respect.
I owe them my gratitude.
I owe them my forgiveness.
I owe them my love.
They were imperfect people,
doing and saying
imperfect things,
in an imperfect
time and place.
It is the scars I bear
from that imperfect
time and place,
that remind me
of how I became
so strong,
and resilient,
and forgiving.
It is the tears I shed,
in that lost time,
and still weep today,
not just for myself,
but for each of them,
that cleanse the
bitter memories
of what became of
their imperfect efforts,
in that imperfect
time and place.
If not for their
imperfect words
and deeds,
if not for those
many painful tears,
wounds, and scars,
these words of mercy,
and forgiveness,
would and could not
appear upon this page,
in this imperfect
time and place.
To my father,
to my mother,
in PERFECT gratitude,
God bless your eternal souls.
May you forever rest in peace.
Love and blessings;
Will Kavi Baba.
