What do I do when questions form
in my mind like diamonds  
tumbling from the sky,
questions I know
will destroy the witness
facing me on the stand?  

This father, who’s not my father.
This son, who’s not my son.  

Selfishness twists my dream to a halt.  

My Arjuna says to Krishna
Tell me another story.  

I turn my aggression inward,
turn it down,
unwilling to be ruthless with myself.