Have you ever made a mistake,
with crossed legs and a dirty forehead?
Have you backed into brilliance
and destroyed it?
With tiny fingers paralyzed.
Forgiveness has become delusion
to free from thrumming,
wheels turning.

Buddha, can you bring me wings
and lift me through?
Let me see
with turmoil leaking,
mistakes illuminated
like fire burning rubber
and tracing faces.
My face.

I am wrong, so wrong.
If I admit it, will it weaken?
If I see through circles into truth
and weakness that wasn’t spared,
and blank sunlight scraping,
and brain cells crashing.

If I tell a secret will you keep it?
Widened walls only shrink in silence
and stomachs tighten.
Struggle is my own heart,
will you keep it?