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29 December 2011 @ 02:04 am
Imperfect Absolution  

It is forgiven, he says.
Forgotten. As if it had never been.

I wish I could be that good -
set aside hurts and losses,
missteps and misturns.
How to accept pardon while
demons still dance within?
The peace of forgiveness
never really made its home here,
in these halls of regret and sorrow.

Despite what the fallible may say,
no black-clad man whispering
of penitence and absolution
ever truly lightened my load.
Sacred secrets of the dark
lose none of their power in the telling.

Those minor infractions, venal, banal,
never much bothered my heart,
while errors darker and more dire
weigh heavily on my soul.
Malignant, they lurk in deep places,
long after the door snicks closed
and he turns to another soul,
long after the prayers are said -
the prescribed number and more -
and long after the nights turn dark
and even bright gods turn cold.

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