Falling is the reminder
to keep myself humble.
When I try to present myself
as perfect,
flawless
or more simply,
merely balanced,
the rug slips from under my foot,
the shower floor becomes slicker,
the height of the curb, higher.
The challenge is not
how quickly I can right myself
and regain dignity,
but rather,
how happily can I accept
this indignity
that I did not want.
I do not deserve
smooth, unwrinkled perfection,
none of us do,
and the minute I think otherwise,
I slow down
and check myself
for I know
there must be a
cosmic banana peel
somewhere out there
with my name on it.
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