Krista
Tippett is a Peabody Award-winning broadcaster and New York Times bestselling author.
In her latest book, Becoming Wise: An
Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living, she tells a story about Father Kilian McDonnell, the monk of
St. John’s Abbey. He had become a globe-trotting theological ambassador after
growing up in the backwoods of South Dakota. In his seventies, he became a
fairly successful published poet. Ms. Tippett included the poem below in her
book (pp. 20-21).
Perfection, Perfection
I have had it
with perfection.
I have packed my
bags,
I am out of
here.
Gone.
As certain as
rain
will make you
wet,
perfection will
do you
in.
It droppeth not
as dew
upon the summer
grass
to give liberty
and green
joy.
Perfection
straineth out
the quality of
mercy,
withers rapture
at its
birth.
Before the
battle is half begun,
cold probity
thinks
it can’t be won,
concedes the
war.
I’ve handed in
my notice,
given back my
keys.
signed my
severance check, I
quit.
Hints I could
have taken:
Even the perfect
chiseled form of
Michelangelo’s
radiant David
squints,
the Venus de
Milo
has no arms,
the Liberty Bell
is
cracked.
