I smooth out my skirt and take a seat,

The hard wooden booth is cold.

My heart nearly skips a beat,

I am the last today, I am told.

I clear my throat which seems unholy,

I struggle to breathe and pray for wind.

Forgive me father, I start slowly,

Forgive me for I have sinned.

I truely had pure intentions,

I confess honestly, but to no reply.

In truth I was met with few objections,

Who I am to hide and try to deny?

My time ends with a muffled thud,

So I stand up and let myself out.

I check my step and skip over blood,

I’m gone when the deacons shout.

Father, I’ve sinned, but I’m cleaner than you,

My wrongdoings pale next to your own.

Justice for your crimes was long overdue,

I’m not helpless anymore; I’m grown.