Five Our Fathers and Eight Hail Marys

SantCompostela25

Confessionals in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, Spain,
by Georges Jansoone, via Wikipedia

It was silly, the heart-pounding,
sweaty-palmed anxiety
of sitting there in the twilight
of a near-empty church,
waiting to whisper what a ten-year-old
thought were grievous sins
to a forty-year-old man hiding in a box
behind a screen and a collar.

I remember the nuns making us
practice for first confession
and sending me back to my seat
to think up more sins, since
I couldn’t come up with enough
imaginary ones from which
I could be given a real penance.

I haven’t been back in many years.
Not since one of those guys
sitting in the darkness committed
his own too-real heart-pounding,
sweaty sins and felt forgiven
after some buddy in another box gave him
five Our Fathers and eight Hail Marys.

My catch-up poem, #13 in Poem-a-Day NaPoWriMo 2015, from a prompt asking for a confession poem. A free-write produced this, for which I may burn.

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5 thoughts on “Five Our Fathers and Eight Hail Marys

  1. Well, Joe, if you burn, I’ll be burning with you because I honestly laughed out loud at it! Great poem! I’ve got some catching up to do myself. I didn’t write a single poem this weekend. Maybe I should go to confession! :-O

  2. Gee Joe, this would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. I, as always, I love how you have a thing for words that nails it – tightly and on target.

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