Confession
I confessed it all to the tree
Looking up through its branches
Like an old, wrinkled face,
Sun splotched and shadowed.
I said I didn’t deserve to be here
Had dishonored the gift
Left so much undone
Failed too many
Then the wind sifted through
Dry leaves, whispering an answer
I didn’t understand but needed
To hear
6/16/26
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