Purification

I feel nothing
seeing your outstretched arms
as the rain drip drops down
hurrying to the ground
stopping to glisten
on your wooden face.
Your holy tears.
My million little secrets
worn like armor--
like a mask.
The rain burns them
off until they are
shadows racing
through the streets
down to the sewers
down to oblivion

Are you a loving father,
son, or holy spirit?
Take my soul and
Set this bastard free.