My Confessional

Oh how my poor wretched soul

feels so at peace and filled with joy

once I spend time

in complete surrender,

happily taking the rags of my life

and letting those stains garments

be cleansed of every soiled mar.

 

The euphoria that comes

from spending the precious moments

as I visit my confessor’s sacred chamber

where I am accepted as I am,

aware my every filth laden secret

will be forgiven, washed utterly away.

 

I feel the tranquility rise as a healing wind

that invokes such amazing thrills,

totally content that no one else

will ever see these visits.

 

Ah, those ivory walls around that sanctuary

always embrace every tattered fragment

of my miserably worn garments in thoughts,

until there is the sweet rapture of release

while a psalm arises in holy celebration

how this eve I was again sanctified,

 

For me there will never be a more riveting encounter

than a pilgrimage to this glorious tabernacle

where everyone can have a chance

at unburdening themselves of so many blemishes

upon the frail vestments we so oft wear.