Both of us might be wrong.
From Nancy: I was a high school senior — 17 or probably 18 — when I wrote this, apparently feeling less infallible than usual. I do notice that at 61, I still apologize after committing an inadvertent injury. But my opinions have marinated for decades so I’m less willing to reconsider them without genuinely new evidence that I haven’t already pondered, which is less and less likely to show up as the years pass. If my willingness to admit that I’m wrong decreases over time, I truly hope it’s because I’ve gained wisdom from past mistakes and thus am less likely to BE wrong. That’s the goal at least.
I Might Be Wrong
Skin color, age, and faith, I know
Put me on top, and THEM below.
Those unlike me don’t count. Although
— I might be wrong.
I must not change. I can’t upset
The way I’ve always done things. Let
It stay the way it’s been! And yet
— I might be wrong.
Apologize? Why, all the blame
Is surely HIS, and thus the shame.
Let HIM ask pardon! All the same
— I might be wrong.
Though never do I once transgress,
And perfect knowledge I possess,
Let me remember, nonetheless
— I might be wrong.
Nancy Meyer
