Positively (Im)perfect

There is an inexpressible ache for it in our world- Etched into the walls of our nations Into the stark white of headstones And the cold steel of ebony bracelets Written into the stories of our hearts Our hearts so weighted Weighted with grief and limping forward on the shoulder of hope Waiting Waiting for the day when other nations Will also collapse at the foot of our graves in tears Run their fingers along the names etched in the walls Offer an embrace so telling that no language barrier could cloud its meaning Waiting For the day when we as a nation will deign to do the same When our tears will water their soil When our ears will open to their stories of torment and suffering When we will emerge as the co-carrier of burdens When we will be the ones to dig ourselves out of the chasm of unjust injury So we might unveil the most formidable task, the greatest need of all: To build the Everest of Healing A towering mountain of love and forgiveness That will

As long as I can remember, I've been the shy kid. But it was more than just shyness. I was uncertain of myself; timid. When I made my very first friends, I let them take the lead and dictate what we were to play and who I should pretend to be. I didn't raise my hand much in school, even when I knew the answer--just in case. I was a bookworm who loved transporting myself to new and exciting worlds; it was more interesting than silly conversation and it took far less effort than suffering through small talk. So I spent every precious moment with my nose buried in my latest book, be it on the bus, in the car, or hiding in my bed on Saturday mornings (hoping my parents would think I was asleep so I could keep reading). When I wasn't reading, I poured my life into gymnastics, where I met my closest friends--but my gym was far away and my friendships didn't extend too far beyond practice and handstand contests. I wasn't necessarily insecure, and I wasn'