moco limping.

Moco Limping 

 by David Nava Monreal

 My dog hobbles with a stick 

of a leg that he drags behind 

him as he moves. 

And I was a man that wanted a 

 beautiful, noble animals as a pet. 

I wanted him to be strong and 

capture all the attention by 

the savage grace of his gait. 

I wanted him to be the first dog

 howling in the pack, 

the leader, the brutal hunter

 that broke through the woods with thunder. 

But, instead he's this rickety little canine 

that leaves trails in the dirt with his club foot. 

He's the stumbler that trips while 

chasing lethargic bees and butterflies. 

It hurts me to see him so

 abnormal, so clumsy and stupid. 

My vain heart weeps knowing he is mine. 

But then he turns my way and

 looks at me with 

 eyes that cry out with life. 

He jumps at me with

 his feeble paws. 

I feel his warm fur 

and his imperfection is 

 forgotten.
____________________________________________________________________

in the words of one of my students yesterday after this reading this poem together,
"things don't have to be perfect for you to accept them."
{how many times will God continue to remind me of this?}

thank you sir winston for teaching me this lesson over and over again.

you may not be the ideal canine specimen but you have surely brought so much joy into my life.