Confession, Revisited

Are you satisfied to know I outgrew my despair?Do you believe it?    Now that the scars on my armshave settled & the cortisone shots quietedthe roiling blood. Nowthat I can speak

your name aloud?      Now, Peter.

Are you vindicated by my survival?I was a stranger to you, an unblinkingchild for you.    Your silent Sunday saint.

Would you instead hand me this poem

& smile— would you leave meuntouched?

Tell me,    would you pray for us,now that you’re reassured—how blessed your restraint,        how broken & sinfulthis world,   how unmonstrous you are?

Hold my rage a moment. Now,stranger, you know.