Hard things: Confession

The word confession, when boxed in, often loses its meaning. And by meaning, maybe I mean value: its necessary place within our lives. Maybe we have outgrown this word, (even if we are religious) leaving it unavailable to us as well as powerless in inviting us into the open and genuine spaces where we live best. 

“Confess” is slowly becoming another taboo word to add to the pile of religious jargon that post-modernity wishes to eradicate. I myself am willing to let it die, so long as we erect in its place a new willingness to open ourselves and move out of the shut box of meaning which the word “confess” has given birth to.

It is necessary to expose ourselves to others; to let a little light in; to air ourselves out now and again. But I believe it is also necessary to acknowledge the difficulty; to admit there will always be shame. 

Life requires us to be exposed to the light, but as humans I hope we can admit that the deeper we are buried, the more patient we must be in allowing ourselves to eventually break the surface of our own shame, giving ourselves wholly–slowly and eventually– to the light which can bring us peace.

 

One does not simply bring their self into the light

 

I wish I knew of the husk breaking

Open into the darkness, testing

The dirt that has been piled

Into mounds all around it.

 

I wish I knew of the splitting,

Or better, could see inside

The fennel of a flower;

How such a large life could unfold—

 

If that beauty is a long time coming,

Or there, in the seed of everything,

It is still small, nearly complete, barely

A thing understood, or hardly worth noticing.

 

I wish I could pause there,

Before the first stirring;

Before the stem bruises itself

On the inside of its own body;

Before the seed surrenders

To its own being

And yields a small green arm.

 

I wish I could ask: is it worth it?

To risk collapsing—to open your skin

And go out where you imagined the light would be?

 

Before I ask: my wish is hoping

That every miracle unavailable to me will go—

Go. Like the life of the beholder depended on you.

 

I am waiting to ask:

Was it worth it, all your waiting?

To step into the light and catch your breath,

The awe that we are breathing in being

Astonished by the grace you speak to us.

 

 

I welcome your thoughts, feedback, praise, and disagreement. 

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