Confessions…

Bless me Father 

for I have sinned,

its been two weeks since my last confession;

to the priest,

the police, 

my mother.

Confessions of holy hands fondling unholy places,

and my evil treacherous body

responding in ways that it never should have.

Confessions of sweaty skin

grabbing and indulging

breaking vows 

and spewing threats of eternal damnation

to keep my mouth shut!

It’s been two weeks and a day

since I’ve been called a liar , 

a confused and trouble kid

who misinterprets touch and cannot cope with affection,

confusing innocent paths on the backside,

as what?

innocent pats on the backside?

Two weeks since i became a freak

an easy target for bullies

a joke

an untouchable.

whose shadow no one wanted to walk in,

all because he touched me,

brushed me,

raped me…

In the stillness of confession

where sins are spoken

and forgiveness should be had,

all i felt was guilt and shame…

Guilt for allowing a father;

a man of God,

the manifestation of saints on Earth…

to have me in the most carnal,

brutal way,

I feel ashamed

because some persons believed 

that it was my fault,

that i attracted him,

but he should know better,

should be held at a higher standard.

Yet secret societies 

are more concerned about keeping silence,

and protecting the church

than exposing crime and abuse,

abuse of the body

mind,

spirit.

In the sanctity of the sacristy

I was stripped down to nothing

and no amount of settlement 

can give me back 

what was taken from me. 

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