The poem that revealed inner turmoil

Branded with a dirty cross For public scandal of private wrong The burn marks are on the inside Where guilt has seared my soul

like hot metal But not cauterised it The wound still weeps And I’m caught out The faithlessness and easy lies That mark my hypocrisy Are smeared on my forehead Blurring the edges of the cross I cling to As I look to wash away my sin They rebuke me in the bathroom mirror It will take more than water to remove

that stain And so I kneel awkward in penitence Like a reluctant dancer, uncertain

of his steps Or an actor who has lost his lines… It finishes: From dust you have come to dust you

shall return Turn away from your sin and repent