Shriven
We talked long into the night
about things I hold near and deep in my soul.
Sharing things that are painful
and hard to carry at times –
things sometimes best left unsaid and buried –
but needing to come out.
And even though the hour was insanely late –
a time that I have to confess,
I have not seen in very, very long time –
the words and stories continued to pour forth
from the rupture in my soul.
My confusion, biases, opinions and fears
tumbled from my lips in an unbidden cascade –
and instead of raining down empty to lay gasping
like dying fish, you picked them up and gave them value
and meaning and validating them without judgment.
As I lay in bed thinking about things afterwards,
I found the peace of an empty vessel,
And slept the sleep of the shriven.
© 2013 Michael Hunter
