THE PENITENT Oct. 2002

Time melds day and night
awareness lost
dates and hours absent
venturing forth through
warped space
an endlessly expanding
rubberband of time
mornings become evening
yet only moments
seem to have past
kneeling in pews
suspended supernaturally strung

Later, without thought
dressed in yesterday's past
forlorn lips
wrap themselves
around earlier errors
unbecoming dialogue
bursts forth
unhinged and unstudied
heart remorse burns

Soul intent on absolution
apprehensively waits
awkwardly the green light
that bids enter
the confessional
"Bless me father, for I have sinned"

words suddenly absent
replaced with mournful
profuse weeping
uncontrolled tears
repentance so carefully crafted
unveiled economy of words
no syllable squandered

Amply prepared to confess
absolution assured
bathed in grace
anticipation of washed away sin
like fresh line dried linen
blowing in the wind

Still more difficult
than sorting one's sins
recognizing their weight
venial, dread mortal, the long ago forgotten
the haunted, guilt addled, dispicable deeds
weren't really that bad
I do sometimes think

The crucial link
is finding a confessor
to whom one can speak
arrogance
and flatulent piety
don't begin to redeem.
Nor bestow exhalting epiphanys
on poor mortal souls
who daily place one foot
ahead of the next
wavering yet wondering
just where this all leads

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