The Hardest Forgiving Slant

<|>
9:19am Fri Sept 22 2023 ~ 8:02am Fri Sep 29 2023
commenced during the Ten Days of Awe

<|>

we debase our language daily,
robbing the spectacular majesty [example]
of awe with the common overusing
vernacular of “awesome”

especially forgiveness is degraded,
we utter “I’m sorry” trippingly,
costless, less than cheap, with even the
snap-on veneer (1) of sincerity discarded,
but move on to the next rudeness

but today I will not permit myself
an easy letting-off-the-hook, no shifting
of blame to anonymity, or fast forward to tomorrow,
when we can obfuscate our intrepid
dishonesty one more time…again

to forgive those who have injured us,
not that hard, or the judging deities,
who silently wink and nod, but offer
no certitude beyond trying, itself a
maybe, maybe not, truly tiring this
trying tacking the constant requests

so first an etymology explication on
the tension inherent that very word,
f o r g i v e

As a word, as a sensed,
intuitively-
it is a
Perfect Continuous Infinitive! (2)

to
forgive is
perfect,
to forgive is
continuous,,
to forgive is
infinite!

what a marvelous, perpetual
past, present and always futuristic
word (alas)

The Hardest Forgiving?


to forgive oneself
so nearer to impossible,
the first responders doing triage,
leave people like me for last,
as it a unconditional condition
with no cure that can be effected

indeed, by our very affect,
they instant diagnosis seeing our
very gestures, body language, or ****** expressions,
all reveal the hopelessness of
the never-to-be-given-grace,
among us

for a thousand years,
I have tried and failed to forgive myself
for the worst I’ve done,
and there is no sword or club,
blood-letting,
that can dispatch the onerous burden I carry

so I write poetry,
a salve that offers
temporary relief,
while I write,
imposed a
momentarily distracting,
a kind of dusting of self~spin,
that chills myself
just until
the, this!
poem is finished,
the slant is drawn


<§>

Tell all the truth but tell it slant —

BY EMILY DICKINSON
Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

Deadly to his enemies
confusing to his friends

While faithful to his writing
injustice he portends

Furious in times of war
in peace his vision burns

But past the fray inside his words
a gentler spirit yearns

Salvation long then sacrificed
a fate he can’t deny

A cross that’s left for him to bear
but still his spirit cries

Through battles mostly heaven sent
and victories sealed with death

This guilt the price he’s had to pay
now felt with every breath

One wish at last he prays out loud
one cry is sent above

“My spear, my pen, my will to live
I trade all back for love”

(The 1st Book Of Prayers: February, 2017)

some light is reflected
some light shines right through

I am the illusion
of not being you

we see our own soul
and not what really is

we walk through the shadow
of all that exists