Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Secret Confessions

* throat is dry.

* swallows.

Me: "Forgive me God, for I have sinned."

* looks down.

God: "I know, I am the All-Seer am I not? But truly, confessions do cleanse the Soul. What is it My child?"

* swallows hard.

Me: "I love, no, lust for poetry. When I am sad, or angry, or happy, or whatever it is, I write. Words are my solace. They are the only ones who do not judge or wait to be judged. I write them, read them and place them closest to my heart. They complete... me."

God: "And what about Me? Am I not your Creator?"

Me: "How can I not have You close? You made me. You gave me these words. Your secrets elegantly hidden within these drops of ink. You're the One who gave me this heart to feel and fall in love, this tongue to speak, this mind to contemplate and this Soul to... this Soul to..."

* Frustrated. Where is the word when you desperately need it?

God: "It's okay, I understand."

* Silence

Me: "You do?"

God: "Wasn't I who made you and gave you words? So yes, I do."

* Smiles.