Thursday, December 15, 2011

Supra Spem Spero

In the weepy, Evening,
A dying woman tells
Her daughter not to be
Scared. "There are no mistakes,"
She says, and we are meant,
It seems, to understand

She has made peace with death,
With regret, with her life
Of feeling regretful,
And perhaps this cruel world
Knows what it is doing
And all turns out all right.

What if the daughter took
Mama's deathbed advice
Perfectly literally,
Even prospectively?
You will never ever
Make one single mistake,

You can't possibly make
A mistake, no matter
How hard you try. "Try not 
To be so scared." You're good,
No matter what happens.
That's a philosophy

Crazy enough to try
On for size. Crazy as
My ancestor's' motto
"I hope beyond all hope."
Why not? Hope against hope
I can't make a mistake,

Even here in the least
Of all possible worlds;
Any decision works.
Random or foreordained,
They'll all add up the same.
How could I know they won't?

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