Confessor

Which I'm not.


Why was the laundry list of secrets mine to carry?

Whenever their lives hit the Dark Side.

The able came to me.

So I had to carry,

The wishes for love, brought to the feet of one who thought she'd never find it, old maid at twenty one.

The abusive boyfriends they ran from, or the hapless good men they played, both sides.

the "affairs" one parent brought to me with the demand that I remain silent to the other.

Fathers abusing their children...

The one I loved confiding about the one they loved.

Where were my *vestments.*

If I was real.

Human, flawed and 'sinful' by most theology.

I did not have Latin language sink in, in the night nor dwelt in a rectory.

I wore no wimple, cassock, collar.

If the idea of impairments as sin is gone from my country...

Then, neither should anyone in my tribe be counted among the saints and martyrs.

We wish for what *you* wish for...and have no need of your dark secrets.