How to Program Forgiveness
How to Program Forgiveness
My Japanese rice cooker
holds a motherboard
that lets it forgive my shortcomings —
a board that lets a machine
briefly behave like a mother.
I reach for it mainly in confusion,
toward a place just out of sight,
hidden above a shelf.
I stretch, arms extended,
balancing on my toes,
all so I can hold you,
all for the relief soon to come.
The shelf itself is closer to my nature
than the machine it holds —
divided, fragmented,
scattered like objects.
I, too, am like that.
But not the rice cooker,
It’s ten o’clock as I write,
patiently waiting
for the small joy yet to arrive,
it begins with a smell
my stomach empty
since my eyes opened.
A bill, colored red and blue,
can weigh this heavy on me —
me, and others.
I’m just a man.
one among many
The sound of my thoughts,
fade as the bill
begins to fade,
yet it fades too soon,
not yet fulfilled,
still empty, still hollow.
The day thins into hunger.
A mindless ritual unfolds —
yet blessed all that feeds.
A ratio of one to two,
you kindly request, never demand.
My shortcomings grow sharper here,
too short-sighted
to fully meet your needs.
I was told it’s a higher love
to love according to another’s needs,
not only to your own desires.
“I was told it’s a higher form of love to love someone in their context — not from a desire to possess ,
but to accept and care for them as they stand. From that acceptance, their context — and yours — can grow.”
I wouldn’t know anything about that
Is that why you’re programmed
for forgiveness?
You remain —
indifferent to my neglect,
constant in your nature
as I falter in mine.
My failures wouldn’t effect
your final output;
you are fabricated virtue.
But my shortcomings
spill into everything else.
When you overflow,
a hidden compartment
gathers your steam.
When I overflow,
I scatter — I disperse
an overwhelming weight
my shortcomings become.
It isn’t a prayer for perfection,
but a prayer not to spill too far.
And still, perfection is desired.
You’re just a man —
a hungry man , but yet you remain just a man
but that’s exactly
what I’m afraid to fail to be.
Maybe, if I were further to my own nature, as you are constant in yours,
i would fear less
Or i wouldn’t need to reach so far —
that now at 10 o’clock my knees
begin to give way.
I wouldn’t know how to program for forgiveness,
but I do know my kindness is elegiac,
It’s rather symbolic — it doesn’t fill an empty stomach or heal a broken knee
while yours is effective , functional and built to work
I wouldn’t know anything about that