Some Golden Mean

My mother said, "Honey, try not to think 

about it." In a tiny early poem 

called "Cognitive Dissonance" I included 

her advice, and ever since, I have hidden 

away in my mind, my delicious mind, 

my refuge, capable in her mind of just 

letting something go. But if I try 

to release myself from a fixation 

on the opposite of arhant, one

deserving of humanness while the sting

of betrayal still hurts in longhand. 

I rehearse distancing and finding mental dance

with the bodhisattva some golden

mean nowhere mean with embedded joy.