Dear Failure,

It is easy to meet you in meditation.

Today, when I failed to focus on my breath,

I kept breathing anyway. Easy to meet you

in the garden where I planted the green beans too late

and harvestless, bought some at the store.

Harder to meet you when I fear

I am failing as a wife because

I missed my anniversary

to stay bedside with my mother.

Harder to meet you when I am afraid

I am failing as a daughter

when I leave my mother’s bed

to go to my own daughter.

I so want to get it right,

this showing up for the people I love.

I so want to get it right,

this longing to be enough.

Oh failure, I have not wanted

to learn your lessons, have wanted

to believe I could fix, could be all.

And you, great teacher, have humbled me

again and again, helping me see

how much I care.

There’s more than getting it right at stake.

You help me debunk perfection,

offering yourself as a friend.

Each time I fall,

you reach out to take my hand

saying, Fail on, sweetheart.

Wouldn’t you like

to try again with your loving?

-- Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer