Confession

I read somewhere
that Mike went on to be a priest
in Grants Pass of all places
but what I see when I think of his name
is not a collar
but kind eyes
and I remember feeling such humiliation
that I had reached a breaking point
that I was so out of control
and faced expulsion.

They said that people who broke down
were often ones who had been abused
and I kept my eyes averted and shook my head,
pleaded my refusal.

When I finally looked up those kind eyes locked mine
and I felt less afraid.

They said I should think about it.

It was the first jagged map I had ever been given.

A blueprint of
that huge space of numbing panic
of hiding the blinding shame
that took decades to believe was not mine to carry.

Nights when I closed my eyes and saw it all happening again.

The fear that preyed on hope.

It led me to myself
after a collection of memories blocked out the moon
and chaperoned me here to this life
which is mostly peaceful and rarely alone.