I was born a thousand years old,

cautious of appearances, careful of pride.

In second grade, I wrote

misspelled-but-dignified lines on blank notepaper:

a shrill sage.

I knew I was wise.

I read my words today and saw

my heart's grown younger

year by year,

arthritic joints unstiffening.

Faith is accounted a childlike thing.

Now I believe

true wisdom lies in knowing I am small.