Confiteor Deo - Poem

National Catholic Reporter, August 13, 1999 by Fredrick Zydek

   I will go to the altar of my God
   wearing only the vestment of my skin.
   I shall lift the loaf towards heaven one crumb
   at a time until the mysterious skirmish
   between God and asparagus rests deep
   in the last few drops of blood red wine.

   Lift me, Jesus! Tell me you have great books
   and grandmas in heaven, flood me with hymns,
   give me celestial pillows to rest on,
   and tell me poems bloom into existence
   each time angels come among us. Dare I
   pray the secrets waiting in the saint's stone?

   I want to be a seed spun to perfection
   instead of just a lump. Let my ego
   go limp as death into a single word.
   Let my soiled voice embrace the very wind
   that began as the breath of life and let
   me sing until I run out of confessions.

--Fredrick Zydek Omaha, Neb.3