I wake up

in the bright light
of the judge's chair
to answer
who I've been

this last day and
what it was heading for and
which choices I made and
it does not matter

how pleased I was
with myself and the music
of compliments for my work
and it does not matter

what I got done
or how able I was
in arranging and resolving
my own mistakes

and other people's business
and always hearing the question
with which humans I was human –
the attentive listeners

take accurately note of everything
in calligraphic writing on handmade paper
let me sign it
and throw it away gracefully

into the everlasting fire
in which my omissions disappear forever
and the lack of my deeds is blackening
a brand in my soul