Penance

I run down blackened stairs.  Meeting the last step, I stumble.

(Get up, Child.)

Down a vacant hall a hollow doorway waits. A familiar threshold that always brought me into a hospitable space.

Dropping onto newly tattered knees, revelation finds me. I am not welcome ... not permitted to enter.  There is as well the sudden sensation I'd expected rejection.

I grope at an invisible barrier, concrete with resistance.  Tears slip from infant eyes. I beg, forceful at first.  "PLEASE!"  Until, lament becomes no more than pitiable whimper.  

A fate had been chosen--by me, alive in the dark, content among unseen evils.

I muster another bout of enthusiasm for my cause.  Aware I deserve no better.  "Please, I didn't know. I didn't...." Rasping sobs escape in unbreakable sequence.  Shame is overwhelming.  Fear debilitating.  Punishing regret bruises my soul, and then

the intangible partition dissolves.

I dart to the farthest recess of the opened room.  Comfort I welcome, but peace does not follow. The crippling presence left outside taunts on.

(Quiet now. Hush.)

I am humbled, embarrassed by the fall, a descent acknowledging an inadequate estate.

I cradle the fear that this redemption is but temporary.