Shriven

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