I’ll admit far too much
declarations put to the world
without the aid of priest’s invite

etched on paper with a pen
it’s the scribe I feel within
speaking volumes a voice cannot

the confessional is left empty
there I’ll not step within
when a poem may substitute

absolution may not follow
even while I state my ways
no holy gift will be bestowed

you may ask why I’m so brave
to trumpet sins all may hear
with dispensation not at hand

I’d accept the course is folly
worse that what piety offers
fast escape from purgatory

in the end the healing follows
led by statements put to prose
deep inside a soul that struggles

a little less with weigh lifted
put aside without religion
etched on paper with conviction.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20171205.