"WITNESS MARKS"

You won’t hear this from my lips. 

So I’ll emblazon it on your skin.

I approach you, surrogate of the body of Christ. 

House of love. House of shame. House of God.

I’ve brought paint, not penance.

I’ll vandalize your sacred walls,

like you vandalized my mind. 

You insisted I beg His forgiveness,

and you never asked me for mine. 

I scrape pigment into your porous brick.

I paint until my fingers bleed. 

You demanded piety,

penitence.

Now, years later, 

I demand… nothing. 

Instead, I’ve scrawled upon you all I have to say:

You’ll never ask, but I forgive you. 

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