I too
am still learning to unlearn
……..the childhood third-degree burn,
the jagged breath, the relative
……..safety of contempt,
the rush to batten down the hatches,
….the need to hoard
the book of matches. I too
……..am still learning to unlearn
the book that turns to ashes,
the lie that serves no purpose, the lie
….that swears that you
are worthless. I too am still learning
….to unlearn the curse of the certain,
to reverse the locked and loaded,
to suspend the assumption
….of the ugly motive,
the corrupt and the corroded.
….I too am still learning
….to unlearn the wrought iron word,
and the rock solid cure.
……..My brother, in the mirror
of the triggered, in the glass
….of the imprisoned in the stories
of reflection
are the remnant of revision,
……..are the cousins of correction,
….are the sages and the saplings
and the burning of the learnings,
are the blessings
….of the waters, are the curtains
…………slowly parting,
……..are the rivers
….in their turning,
……..are the ripples of unlearning.