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Confession Box
March 3, 2018
You bellowed my sacred, God-given name
into the ominous, overcast sky.
Those syllables now foreign to me.
Were you expecting me to descend from the heavens,
surrounded by a glowing aura and powerful lightening,
because you wanted me to erase your sins?
You knelt down before me,
spewing your heartfelt confessions.
But I am not your priest.
Your guilty words deafen me.
Next time you confess,
please go to church.
© Kari S., Mesa, AZ
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