From who do we get permission to fail.
From whom. Who permits these missteps.
These abandonments. Can they be lessonless,
my failures, please. The moral of the story is
missing, what do you think would happen
to the scores of children waiting for the just end,
the guilty one, banished. What has failed
in failure. What beyond expectation, beside
expectation, I mean. A falling short, shy
of. In action, then. There is the failing. The part
most often misunderstood: how acceptable
the dropped stitch is. The missed step, instep
plunging with what feels like ease, am I
right. It is easy to fall, to fail, and pleasing
and needed. Not because of anything ever after,
not in hopes of being better prepared.
You did it wrong, Failure says, and may
you falter again. Fall, turn, and now,
what to do. Feel it. You are hereby given
permission to fail. Let us be led together,
all fall, hands swallowing each other’s hands.