Confessions To A Priest At Dawn Poem by Sarah Mkhonza

I want to tell you this story,
For it has become well known to all.
Me and this other one I told you about
Have not seen each other for a month
Nor have we spoken to the God in us,
To tell him how much we have grown apart.

Lest you be surprised by the rumors,
That tell everybody heaven does not allow,
The division of what was indivisible in your eyes,
The heart knows the four ventricles part ways,
When it stops beating in unison.

This truth bothers you and me most,
But not new finds and new brooms
That sweep the streets in a manner not seen before,
As does my spouse's new find from the bar,
Where wine is served in goblets that hang
Down a bosom inflated with wild balloons,
That have seen the touch of many,
Who vowed they are worth possessing.

Now that you know my inner most confession,
I am saying to you go and pray for me alone,
In my absence so you can invoke the powers
That be without fear I will hear you curse,
The very God who had us served mass by you,
To the joy of crowds whose tears of mirth,
Were washed down by wine years ago.

This dawn has come with good news,
For freedom was never a bad word,
When it tells a sparrow that the sky
Is all open when there is no rain,
Pouring down onto its wings to dampen them.

With this confession I implore mothers of the church,
To stop talking about us as two fish in a pond,
Swimming around as if running away from a frog
But know one has fallen out and rotted on the sand,
And has eyes looking out ready for birds of the air,
To peck on it and swallow it into a gizzard where it shall,
Rest with stones that churn pulp out of its flesh.

On this day I walk out of this confession box,
With no tears but assured by this sunrise,
That my fingers will point east when they mean east,
And end up putting on a ring that is made to fit,
Not the one which was hidden when others were being kissed,
For this I know happened or my spouse would be here with me.

Tell me of vows of poverty and I will tell you
That vows of love in this sacred sacrament of two,
Are vows of chastity that land on one knee,
Begging the other to rise so they can both walk
Together to the alter of obliteration
Where all insincerity ends with a bang.

Who said what we do in these churches is real,
When we can break down and splatter it with words,
That have one syllable and throw the rest in there,
Where my finger points right now as this dawn yawns,
Tired of the day I will spend after a sleepless night,
For coming here was something I waited for eagerly,
With not one wink of sleep creeping into my tired eyes.

The Lord bless these goodbyes of two birds,
That fell into a trap at midnight,
Only to separate in these confessions,
On this dawn two days away from the birth,
Of the savior called the happiest of days,
For misery creeps along slowly when it comes,
To break the heart and throw away the contents.