I have been one with the starry night.
On desert sand and mountains high,
Walked alone in the brightest city's light.
I have heard the cold ~ splintering, breaking,
Into a hundred pieces of wants and needs.
Toiled with cracked hands and awakening.
Far above the spirits and shattered glass.
My youth was bent by wafers of holy grace,
Light shrouded under vestments at high mass.
Stained with memories, life unfolds.
In the restless dark, I burned hails
Bright as brimstone in my guilt.
Pleasure is simple, when pleading fails.
And candles glow in discontent.
I have been one with the starry night.
Candles can't burn my sins away.
But will fire the telltale booth.
Behind whose curtained portal stays,
The robed repository of confessed truth.
As I draw my dying breath,
I pray for all my ravaged youth.
Forgive me Father for I have sinned.
Author notes
Priests who molest young boys and girls...do they ever confess?
Written June 23rd, 2006
In a list
A contest entry
- Free Verse by .
300 points, ended June 24, 2006, 5 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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I love your descriptions, the senses you portray in your lines -- "starry night", "city's light", "heard the cold - splintering", "cracked hands". And the little hints or insinuations I almost missed until a read a second time -- "wafers of holy grace", "stained" as in the windows, "bright as brimstone". I love the repetition of "I have been one with the starry night." All perfectly worded, I think.
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Brilliant
Your poem is amazing. Im at a lost for words right now.
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