For the Doubtbound

"Even ash bears guilt. Even flame forgets its purpose."

I may have been cruel, O Holy Father.
I may have broken what none can restore.
I may have sinned and forgotten.
Unworthy of mercy, condemned evermore.

Oh, god, of shame,
you grant no absolution,
but demand confession without end.
I name you not as god but as disease.

I no longer weep for imagined crimes.
I no longer scour for certainty.
I no longer bargain with ghosts.
I forsake the dance that grinds the soul.

I accept that I may be wretched.
I accept that grace may never come.

This confession is fractured, profane, and enough.
I choose to walk onward, unredeemed and unbound.