On Confession

Words leave tracks of mud

A mess of entanglement

Should be-Supposed to-Should have

            Colliding with

                        I

Makes a mess.

Bound by deformed chains,

Words unhinge our soul

Free us to own, acknowledge, make peace with

            God, me, you

Power unleashed

Spark sent forth

Spread, splattered, spilled

In a chaotic wind

of tears

of sighs

of pauses

of breath

Words transform,

They build a new story

Where tracks of mud have a place

Offer hope, consolation, wisdom

A new story, a good story

One to be told