Dark is the wind outside
the church window
Black drops of rain
bounce off the roofs
Along in the dimly lit
cathedral
winter dressed
warmed inside myself
I contemplate
Jesus on the cross
a wooden stature
filled with saw-dust
Blood
and yellow complexion
painted in enamel
the image of Him
produced
in an Italian
workshop
A priest comes by
taps my shoulder
I follow him
to the confessional
Only we in the Great Cathedral
in a morning
of rain
and clouds
thunder
and lightning
I must confess
otherwise
why
am I here
How can I
confess
the simplicity
of myself
I have nothing
I came off
the crowded
street
on a cold winterday
to be warmed
myself
for an hour or two
That I am
Jewish
and believe
only in the Silence
"Father"
I half-lied
"I committed adultery"