Life is a Dream

If you can't love me...

   Mon, August 7, 2006 - 11:11 AM

Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
My last confession was last night
in your bed.

Father, David whispered, it’s time.

You brought down the Eucharist
and broke it between you fingers.
The mass went on as if nothing had happened.

Bless me Father, for I have loved.
My contrition was this morning,
when I said good-bye.

Father, David said, are you alright.
You look tired.

I’m fine, David.
Trouble sleeping, that’s all.

Soccer this afternoon?

Not today, ask me tomorrow, yes?

Yes.

Forgive me Father, for loving you,
the way I did.

I found this stuck to the sacristy door.
David handed you an envelope
It has your name on it.
You took the envelope and put it in your pocket.

Thanks for the “Gospel of Mary.”
It’s almost as good as the “Song of Songs.”
Got any more?

You reached in your bag
and pulled out Dante’s “The New Life.”
Take this, you handed it to him,
and I’ll see you tomorrow on the soccer field.

In the emptied church you tore open the envelope and read the letter:

You said you loved me.
But it was a lie.
I’ll never wash my hands of you,
like Pontius Pilate,
nor will I ever wash your feet with my tears,
like some whore, that I played being in your bed,
when there wasn’t anything,
anything,
that we didn’t do.
I know you remember it all,
but will you remember me,
the one who loved you,
only you,
you.

Forgive me Father,
for not forgetting you.
Bless me, if you can’t love me.
But don’t absolve me,
for I don’t regret longing for that which shall never be.

-Tristan Isolt



2 Comments

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Mon, August 7, 2006 - 12:47 PM
here is to more sin, more offen

Patrick
Unsu...
 
Tue, August 8, 2006 - 2:58 PM
In Reply
Your Pontiff and his shadow government can not survive with deviants like you.