Mio Padre,
I am a sinner. This confession is my only vow,
leaning in the half-light’s glow,
I knelt beside a flowing stream
and whispered, as if in secret blame,
touching the face of the being itself…
I scattered sparks of shame,
of longing and of grace…
I ruled, yet every word was mute.
I was a beast, a silent truth,
she, as if like flint and fire, dark magic born of night.
She slid into my arms and led the way…
between us burned a fervent love,
and she became my muse of breath and flame,
illumining the heart with ache and wonder.
Softly, enchantingly, she called to me,
resonant and skilled, like a living string,
sweet with an irresistible pull,
the neck of passion curved beneath her song.
A waltz of shadows, and the sense of fate,
my soul forgotten in delicious sin;
my heart obeyed that blessed harmony,
submissive to her languid gaze,
and golden hair fell on her shoulders like a sign.
“Confession
is an act of honesty and courage—
an act of trust in oneself and in God,
who forgives us.”
— Pope John Paul II, 1987