Holy Water & Lies
“Blessed are you who seek confession. Speak, and God will hear.”
Shame clung to him,
Ink smudged across hands
Clasped in prayer.
Guilt sat heavy,
Crumpled, half-torn,
Nestled in the bottom of lungs.
He wrote in mistakes,
In half-truths
Fed to fools,
Each line a scar on paper.
Proof bled
Under fingernails—blue,
A map of sins etched into skin.
A priest listened,
Hands smudged
With the red ink of lies.
He scrubbed at palms
With rosary beads,
Vomiting confessions
From the walls themselves.
The confessor —
Sin of doubt,
Ink hidden from converts.
The priest —
Sin of deception,
Aware he preached half-truths.
Is sin worse
When bled
Between confessional walls?
To demand repentance
From patrons
While dissolving mistakes
In holy water?
Sin drips
Between pews and pulpits,
Ink mixing with tears,
With prayer,
With the slow corrosion
Of conscience.
Holy Water & Lies
“Blessed are you who seek confession. Speak, and God will hear.”
Shame clung to him,
Ink smudged across hands
Clasped in prayer.
Guilt sat heavy,
Crumpled, half-torn,
Nestled in the bottom of lungs.
He wrote in mistakes,
In half-truths
Fed to fools,
Each line a scar on paper.
Proof bled
Under fingernails—blue,
A map of sins etched into skin.
A priest listened,
Hands smudged
With the red ink of lies.
He scrubbed at palms
With rosary beads,
Vomiting confessions
From the walls themselves.
The confessor —
Sin of doubt,
Ink hidden from converts.
The priest —
Sin of deception,
Aware he preached half-truths.
Is sin worse
When bled
Between confessional walls?
To demand repentance
From patrons
While dissolving mistakes
In holy water?
Sin drips
Between pews and pulpits,
Ink mixing with tears,
With prayer,
With the slow corrosion
Of conscience.