Broken and Perfect - Cynthia Franklin

I want to stop nursing the childish hope

That it could have been different, or ever will be.

Don’t I know by now that all love

Leads to betrayal?

And the biggest loves,

The biggest betrayals?

Don’t I know that my own hope

For a more perfect loving

Is just another of my own ways

Of betraying?

Maybe I am crazy stubborn

But I want to hold, still,

Any flawed moment of love,

That ever was, or will be,

As irrevocable.

Maybe as crazy

As the baby monkey

Holding onto it’s dead mother

Whether hoping for milk, or hoping to wake her,

And whose fingers will have to be broken

Before it will let go?

Or as crazy

As the lucky Chinese

Who feed rice to their dead ancestors

Believing they will eat

And will finally, now, be

Satisfied?

And as crazy

As those who conceive

And give birth to little ones,

And, cradling them, cherish

Every extravagant hope

For a different future?

Maybe as crazy,

And as sane.

Listen,

All love is dangerous

All love is dear

All love is costly

All love is precious

All love

Is broken

And perfect

Like God.