Work Text:
The priest walks home, wan and weary, drained from his last confession.
An admission from a young child, who wished for the aid of Jesus,
cried and trembled as she unveiled her sin,
managing only whispers of her father,
who had touched her, and used her, and saw her eternally damned.
The priest’s hands shook as he absolved her, and implored her to seek help.
He removes his cassock, and wonders if he truly was any help,
or if his inaction is complicit. The girl said her only hope was confession
and that if she were to speak these words elsewhere, her father would be damned.
The priest declared that her father would never dine with Jesus,
but was this enough? A beast cares not if he eats in company of the Heavenly Father,
and so she left, unwillingly returning to her father’s sin.
Breaking the seal of confession is excommunicable, a grave sin,
but, the priest rationalizes, this child of God needs help.
His eyes begin to water. He must speak, thinks he, but he is a Father,
to speak would be his ruin. He sinks to his knees and begins his own confession.
Clasping his hands around a rosary, he looks up at a portrait of a crucified Jesus,
and utters the words: ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, so on and so forth, is this girl damned?
If I speak, I am lost, but if I am to stay silent, both I and the girl are damned.
This poor child, not yet fifteen, who believes herself a sinner,
cannot speak of the most heinous of crimes! I look to you sweet Jesus,
and beg: Give me a sign! What would you do? How would you help?
You, who can raise the dead, who gave himself to us and to whom we confess,
how could you understand the plight of a mortal, of I as Father?
She turns to me for guidance, and it is my duty to give such as Father,
but I too need guidance! Damn it all, Damn!
He finds no sign in his Lord’s eyes, and on his knees, his truth is confessed;
I do not have the divine blood of God running through my veins, I am human, I sin,
but I am supposed to be a guide. This ineffable crime is continued, helped
by my silence, every minute spent here, crying on my knees. O Jesus!
His voice hoarse, and the room silent, he is looked down upon by Jesus,
whose thin body is imposing. The priest thinks of the girl and her father,
and the sobs that wrack his body cannot be helped.
He is a man who cares, the evidence is damning,
and even with the sanctity of it all, the rules and regulations, he will commit his greatest sin,
by speaking of what he was told in confession.
And when he thinks of his confession to Jesus,
he knows that it is his greatest sin as Father,
his biggest fault was his damning help.