Atonement
The image of guilt has been etched
in our conscience
from the moment we are born
sketched in charcoal, shades of black
and partly gray, sharp against white,
bitter truths against the light
A contrast of shadows, shapes,
Right against wrong
Seeking the confessional for
layers of a coat of shame
A shedding of the shroud of self loathing
A lifting of the weight of anxiety
that pulls with the force of gravity
against the axis of one's self esteem
It does not necessarily always come wrapped in a box
where solitary confinement
is surrounded by hushed voices
wrapped in anonymity
bathed in the holy waters of forgiveness
sprinkled with a blessing
and a promised Hail Mary
It can come from a child
left with the evidence
of a crumb
still clinging to
a chin
Or can come
as the last breath
from the one
facing death
It is accompanied by the soft sound
of relief,
a sigh,
a whispered voice groping at the frayed edge
in hope of salvation
of hope for forgiveness
We are born
knowing the score
When keeping the weight
of the shame
holds more
than we
can
bear
______________________________________
Contest: "The Confessional"
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013
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