comme une mule? (maybe)

That's not true! I am wearing pants.

My daughter said.

It was morning, and

I wanted to know if she'd gotten ready.

So stubborn,

I thought.

What's it in French?

Têtue -- ah, yes.

Frustrating

Her need to be right.

Why can't she just

but then,

A thought snuck

In my brain

Like a gnat

That sticks in your eye, as you run

In the summer

I rubbed my forehead

Tried to get past

The emotion of realizing

The truth of the sneaky thought.

Ah!

We're each

Wanting to guard

Protect our inner truth

Our identity

That we are right

That we have a right to exist

That we are smart

That we are not always wrong

That we have followed commands

That we have -- been good

That we

My daughter was right.

She was wearing pants

(Had I been lost

In thought so long?)

Now.

I wrote this poem to remember,

We each are stubborn-

Ly clinging on

To our identity

And

It's a miracle

We don't fight others

More often.

Perhaps

One day I'll be able to honor

More quickly the inner truth of

My daughter

Without thinking so much.

(maybe)