In the middle of your penitence,
my leniency acts as an exorcism.
Your sins and my sins commune,
lifting the demons from between teeth
and exalting faith into the ether.
Your weight shrinks on mine
without permission or rule.
Your sins and my sins balance
one another’s betrayals and disillusions,
creating a cupola of light.
You corrupt as I maintain
politeness and stoic graces.
Your sins and my sins follow us
like possessed souls, lost in purgatory
and without peace from above.
Nor prophet or shaman
or any other holy one, idolized and beloved,
can relieve us of our doubt.
Your sins and my sins shine on
the floor as we whisper prayers silently.