Confession

Day before First Friday
we file from our classroom to the church
at our assigned time.
"Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned.
It has been one month
since my last confession:
I was angry with my little sister
I was jealous of her new doll.
I was selfish, and did not share
my roller skates.
I was proud, and I boasted."
In that dark cozy place,
my eyes are tightly closed.
Father does not know
who I am.
A blessing, the Sign of the Cross.
I march to the altar rail,
gaze bent to the floor.
I kneel, hiding my eyes in my knuckles.
Three Hail Marys, and the Act of Contrition
I am forgiven.
My soul is pure white.
Tomorrow, I may receive Holy Communion.

Sunday morning Mass
after ten hour night shift
admissions, transfers, two deaths.
Armpits still chilled from warming
frozen plasma.
Fingernail stained orange-
Betadine prep for an emergency trach.
We sit wearily in metal folding chairs.
Bright, sun-filled quonset hut:
the Chapel of Saint Luke.
Slowly we stand as the priest
and his attendants file in.
We bow our heads,
one sign of the cross
sketched in the air.
My silent catalogue:
Bless me Father, for . . .
I was enraged, wanted to hurt another.
I committed adultery two, no, three times.
I was proud, would not pray.
Thirty others forgiven at the same time.
Our souls are purified
we may receive Communion.

Night
the black hour
when sleep has fled again.
Poison gas In Iran and Iraq.
In El Salvador, disembowelled priests
and two women.
Star Wars
and Minutemen.
Martinis and handshakes in Beijing
across one thousand bodies.
Blockades create starvation
and democracy.
Arms shipments.
I am enraged
and frightened of my rage.
I am appalled
and made helpless.
I am guilty of fear
helplessness
failure to believe or hope
having believed and having
asked no questions.
Where is forgiveness
and purification of the soul?
Where is communion? and when?

The dark, private cubicle is empty
door closed tight.
The sun-filled chapel
was blown up by those
who believed in a different god.
Knuckles can no longer provide
a safe dark.
I will not pray.

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