The Pink Pearl
I learned forgiveness in 4th grade.
A few strokes of the soft pink end of my pencil
dissolved any mark the pointed end created.
Wrong answers turned to dust.
Then I discovered the Pink Pearl.
Softer, more effective.
Large enough to grip firmly,
small enough for a watch pocket.
Never dried or hard like
the ones at the end of the #2 pencil.
I recently introduced my daughter to
this evolved redeemer.
We pictured our lives
corrected by Pink Pearls.
Erasing our miscalculations.
Inserting better solutions.
What would our lives be like now?
Would we still be sitting at her desk
erasing incorrect answers.
Could one Pink Pearl redraw
the trajectory of that pass I threw
behind a wide-open receiver
sure to score the winning touchdown?
Recalculate leaving New York or San Francisco,
the career changes?
Would it take an Armada of Pink Pearls?
Destroyers, Aircraft Carriers and Supply Ships
floating through my past, sinking bad decisions.
Now I get to unroll the scrolls
of my explorations.
Teach her to listen to
the soft voice inside.
Silent radar signaling the
danger of that brilliant angelfish
gliding through fluorescent coral
just before transforming into a mine.
Perhaps she’ll avoid the need for a Pink Pearl.
Maybe just a little John Boat trolling
the swamps of some dingy decisions.
Steve Huddleston 9/2015