1

My eyes droop with the heaviness of my sins
and times laid bare in séances
that compelled forth reminiscences.
They filled each one, the empty chairs
placed in the grand hall for the dead to fill
“Come sit with me“, someone said,
and I laid bare my all,
in memories.
One by one recollecting
each sin,
each shameful guilt,
some known to family, some to a fair few,
some not dared to be admitted even to the self.

2

I borrowed a book once, called Shame,
and what followed soon enough was that I fell from grace,
there’s nothing now that can reverse the clock,
I live by my sins, by habit and choice.
There’s an apple tree that bears no fruit,
perhaps I like it that way, barren and raw,
her mocking arms point at each horrified passerby
who reminded of their sins,
take another route.