I Stopped Stealing So I Could Take My First Step

i was fifteen and unsure my first step with oil on his thumb he crossed my forehead the light pored in it was the only thing i could see but for gold lacing the heat unbearable as i broke into sweat he spoke but no word did i hear the ground seemed to shift my knees where week it lasted but minutes eternity seemed to fold my sponsors hand was on my shoulder even that disappeared i was nothing but for the light slowly my eyes cleared waiting for him to return and when he did i said "father jim is it alright if i go sit down" (a poem about when i became a cat-acumen)