What I Cannot Forget

What I Cannot Forget

The things I forget only embarrass me,
what I cannot forget is what haunts me.
All of the worst of it is thrown into the deepest part
of the sea,
Marianas Trench, that colossal canyon,
flooded deeper than Mt. Everest.

All of the cracked bones, reactions to infractions
broken half the time out of willingness, have been scattered,
I am told,
as far as the east is from the west. I attended the East-West
Shrine Game once, when I was 10, at the Rose Bowl in
Pasadena. Until I got there, I thought I was going to
something important; Michigan and USC.
Nonetheless, despite my mistaken perception,
the day was perfect for helmets and pads on
the gridiron. I forgot
I was talking about how far the infractions
were hurled. They do come round again,
back to their starting place, to pound me into
the funk I find myself in nearly half the mornings I wake.

It is not false, they are further than I can fathom,
but my mind rains circles, and so, in every tighter orbits,
the weights resound their presence no matter how much
I believe they are beyond my apprehension.

I know You won’t reject me when the massive doors open,
between my last breath and my first real focus. I know
You’ve cast my worst stubs and stabs behind Your back
and never make them count against me. But I remain

As sad as if You meant them to greet me before I
can wrestle them or believe You cast them away.
My mind is my hell, will You make me a heaven here?