the warm wings that once
offered protection exposed
familiar abuse


image of Fallen Angel Fantasy from Pinterest


To my Dharma and spiritual seeker family who are now questioning Gurus, what is real and how to move forward.

I love you all still
some teachers and their
minions hurt many,
if not all of us
men women and children
in very deep ways.
Spiritual criminality
is the gravest of crimes.

Our vows to our
unconditioned hearts
are not a curse.

Absolute power corrupts
they never really truly
cared about us,
never wanted or could hold
the burden
I’m sorry to say
it was a one way take.

We now have degraded
into battle
where does the Kingdom lie,
in a deified man or woman?

I say it’s within us.
Spiritual codependency
keeps us unwell.
Salvage what we can
evolve like a phoenix
into a better day forward.

We must look within
to the voice
of our ethical hearts
and trust ourselves.

That’s what the Buddha wanted
there we will,
for the first time see


the real hidden
magical kingdom
and know what to do.

All of these many words now
range from blistering rage to
longing and
waning devotion
all suggest the powerful
voice of an
overdue revolution,
an inner sun
where we all
are growing up

A life not owned by
any one or any culture,
it hurts I know
growing pains always do.

Sloughing off old
comfortable skins,
and I have still so
very much faith in us.

Photo by Thierry Ollivier/RMN-Grand Palais/Art Resource, NY
Kingdom of Shambhala and the Final Battle, Mongolia, nineteenth century

Her eyes lift to the still sky
blurred through vitreous fluid tears
eye floaters she was told once to revere
clear and refracted rainbow seeds

wondering if there was any
divinity left to hear her prayer
beckoning only
unresponsive silence

searing steam of words leak
through these electronic cracks
great passion suggesting
molten volcano eruption
creation and destruction
rumbles alive underneath

she could taste
with the tip of her heart tongue
as a fur mother washes her child behind it’s ear
a bearing of a forgiveness
par with no less than the deep
cavern womb of
matron earth itself

will she die with a censored love
more vast
than she
had ever-before known?

Could it really be that
life broke him
so far beyond love
that the callouses
have armored the self made
prison walls of his exiled


Living beings are seen
as only fodder, prey
to be captured, devoured and discarded?

A black hole of sordid insatiability
draws only in and offers nothing back
upholding the architecture
of his damaged esteem.

It was all true.

The reflecting mirror of her heart sky
saw it all, as it was
without alteration
and she loved him
as a friend
as a sibling
as a child
as a mother
as her Self

just as He was
a deep in-breath of mourning gray mist
unmoving quiet
before all
beyond sacred and profane.

I sought solace in you
from a barbarian family
you assured refuge
and a warm white blanket of trust

and it has been revealed
that you just wanted to sleep with me
callously for your pleasure
extract my devotion
money and very identity
a lifetime of indentured servitude

you mandated that I put you above all
wrapping me in a haughty cocoon of
white and red ragged cotton cloth
I bowed and begged for your
love and absolution

and I watched your glistening gem gold brocade
hollow words of compassion made me quiver
your awe full display with trumpet and drum
but what was birthed was
only arrogance and thoughts of
spiritual superiority

I wanted nothing more than you
I was addicted and I imbibed you
thirstily as my intoxicant
I voluntarily branded myself
genuflecting groveling on the floor
at your mud flower feet

but you never cared
you hurt women, children, men and boys
and turned a blind eye to abuse
heartless peacock plumage
narcissistic colorful black hole radiance
you’d use us for whatever you could gain

and when spent or confronted
we were discarded
ghosted silenced slandered
excommunicated from your faux
mandala of thankless

and you were audacious enough
to threaten hell or a
defamation suit
if I ever exposed you
or spoke these very words

and I now proclaim my strength
my real life
that is NOT defined by you
nor your arcane religious tenets
not one more day

I am now free
and can truly, deeply love
despite your profound betrayal
my curved knife severs the cord of dependence
to that which can only take from me

today I birth myself
bravely into a new life
alone but finally healed
and yes
and indeed
holy in love.

Dedicated to my true dharma family, authentically benevolent teachers and friends, so very brave enough to expose those who used our precious tradition to harm and exploit others. Thank you for your voice in this overdue evolution. May we all finally have the tools to turn away from what got culturally appropriated as false dharma and now, with new, fresh eyes and heart, look inward and see the silent power of our truly awakened state.

© 2020 Dawn Boiani Permission to repost, republish and crosspost unaltered in full with colophon, with this attribution.

Image of Simhamukha courtesy of: chinabuddhismencyclopedia