Self-esteem’s been on the decline since 
          someone named it. As people burdened 

with cars and scarves and marred skin 
          we believe we should strive for wholeness, 

an unblemished state. Yet it’s possible 
	  the mission of existence is learning to handle  

the imperfections we’ve been granted. 
	  The Buddhists think maybe we were never 

meant to be whole, that maybe we were 
           designed with flaws to see how we cope. 
 
This sounds both insightful and absurd. 
           No one exists without wounds, reminders  

of their mortality. I limp around in pain 
	  every day, the same as everyone else here. 

The point is to know how we’re broken 
	  then interact with the world as if we’re not.