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Perfect Imperfections
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By Rich Tassinari
Other Poems by Rich Tassinari

           Perfect Imperfection

I’ve asked, I’ve prayed, how can this be?
He often talks insensibly,
He flaps his hands and mumbles sounds
Of cartoon rabbits, bears, and hounds
He hears and sees upon a screen
Where life is always cute and keen
In animated make-believe,
While I, within my real world, grieve.

But You, who rolled all orbs in place
On ordered routes in endless space,
Who squeezed each plant inside its seed,
Then filled each hillside, mountain, mead,
Placed life throughout land, sea, and air
With special skills to manage there,
Would make a child without a clue
Of how to think or know of You.

His mind won’t walk with clarity
Among the words where others see
And hear Your voice and search belief
And sigh with sighs of great relief
To think all propositions through,
Then come with learned mind to You,
He copes with life to fathom less,
To wander quietly and guess.

He’ll do as well or just as poor
As any creature, less or more,
With food and drink and safe abode
And take as if to them is owed
Whatever is within their reach
If one can’t learn what pastor’s preach,
But, is there more for simpler souls
Than shelter, drink, and food-filled bowls?

But Love, as You, can speak no words,
Can sing and fly like morning birds
With every rising of the sun,
And rise inside when love’s begun
Its resurrection in the heart
Where perfect imperfections start,
The heart and soul’s the perfect ear
That’s made by You to clearly hear.

So, Love I hold, embrace, release,
And never let Love’s spirit cease
To speak Love’s living simple speech
The way hearts hear, the way hearts teach,
The way each perfect soul began
Through You as true Love always can
From one heart to another talk,
Then both, with You, together walk.

Rich Tassinari 3/26/17


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Submitted: Sunday, March 26, 2017

Last Updated: Sunday, March 26, 2017

About the Poet
Husband, father, grandfather, and each title is my joy. As a youth, poetry was a means to express the inexpressable. I was attracted to (and still am) the beauty and brevity of verse. All flows out from God, and like a proper prayer, can flow back.

Other Poems by Rich Tassinari

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