A Welsh Confession

Name: Heather Burdsall

Undergrad at Messiah College

1st place Live Arts Contest

A Welsh Confession

It’s not on the hillside I find him

Anointing lambs’ wounds with oil.

I can’t find him with the filthy,

Cupping their faces in his hands.

Not even in the boathouse, ready

To loosen the rope and slip

Across the lake to sit and weep.

In the dark, butter-flecked sky,

I have heard no speech, no language.

In the Cathedral, he’s left us

With only his cameo, staining the pool

Of red light that falls, bloodying the face

Of a whining boy in the third wooden pew.

But he is there—

In the sore radiance of morning, shaking

Me by the shoulders, assuring me

Of all he’s taken.

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