Repentance
One cold October morning
When the sun hadn’t yet made to rise
But the sky was a turquoise reflecting the
Coming of the morning
I woke up and placed my hands upon my bathroom counter
And realized they were covered in blood.
A bright, artificial color, I will add.
I wonder where it came from.
Did I hurt myself in my sleep?
Was I bleeding somewhere that
I was not aware about?
Or perhaps this blood is not mine.
No, it is the blood of my sins,
That can only be washed off by the priest
With God’s blessed water to soften them
And make them pure once more.
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