Reconciliation

A poem written before and after I took the Sacrament of Reconciliation this evening.

We all line up.
The bench is hard.
Hard like our hearts once were and often still are.
Sin calcifies, preventing us from moving freely in God’s Grace.
The sanctuary is darkened,
save for the light cast on the Most Holy Body of Christ,
The tabernacle holding our Salvation.

All is quiet in this waiting room.
The doctor will see us soon.
This doctor is not dressed in white, however. This doctor is clothed in black.
Black not in judgment but black because He takes on our sins,
Black because He descended into Hell and fought the fires of our own pride on our behalf.
Black like the night He finds us in,
a hand reaching out from the light to welcome us back.

Whispers to the angels.
Whispers to the Saints.
Whispers to the
Ever-Virgin Blessed Mother,
clothed in white, blue, and gold.
If we sit in silence,
we can hear whispers back.

Poor banished children of Eve are we,
Save us from the snares of the devil.
Save us from ourselves.
Die that we may live.
Strengthen our souls
that we may die
to the lives we once sought.

I am healed now just as I was always healed
From the moment our Savior said it was finished
As He hung on that Tree of Death that was our Tree of Life.
I know now that I am healed by the blood from His hands, the Holy Water from His Divine Mercy.
Help me, Lord God, to remember your healing in the days to come.
I will forget. I will stumble.
You will remember. Not my sins but my Salvation.

Tears fall as I kneel before the altar, each drop a sacrifice to You
The sin being driven out,
The salt a gift of Your Forgiveness.
Thank You, Father.
Thank You, Christ.
Thank You, Holy Spirit.
Thank you, Blessed Mother.

For Your Blessing.
For Your Love.
For Your Mercy.
For Your Charity.
For Your Grace.
For Your Sacrifice.
For Your Forgiveness.