Dear Father what are my sins?
To have loved without reservation?
Wordless days stacked end to end,
Weeping to hear her voice again?
Are these sorrows, idol or sloth,
That so many poets have written of?
Enduring the cruelty of her silence
As I strike at her with pen and ink?
How am I to be judged oh Judge?
What is the scale upon which I am laid?
Am I just another sinner needing to be blinded,
With both of your thumbs in my eyes,
Before I am allowed to see?
Must my chains be heated blood red once more upon my skin
Before they are to be pulled from my arms red and bleeding,
And the scabs allowed to heal to show my scars?
Which carries the greater weight, love or pain?
Or is it this, this suffering, that is required
To tie me so much closer to this woman whom I love,
To bind us through all that will surely come?
- I Am A Sinner- Don’t Judge Me! (ubebetternotbitter.wordpress.com)