Father, I Have Sinned

"Father, I have sinned..."

Cora knelt at her God's holy alter, a guilty sinner lying prostrate before the Almighty Judge. Fingers clasped in pleading prayer, she trembled.

"For I have loved a woman without fear..."

Cora finally confessed her innermost thought, her innermost sin, her innermost desire.

"Loved her with all the fires of Hell burning inside me."

Even now, the young woman could feel the familiar, powerful, pulsing warmth coursing through her entire body as she thought about June, about the woman she loved. All the passionate love she felt for June mingled with the tender warmth of pure affection. It was sparking embers, smoldering coals, a glowing hearth, and a raging inferno all at once, burning and soothing her heart in equal amounts.

"I have loved a woman with open palms,"

The young woman confessed, unthinkingly unfolding her hands and facing them upward to Heaven, but whether she was doing this to bear her guilt or to display her passionate pleasure was unknown both to her and the God to whom she was praying.

"Open legs.

"Rolling hips."

Cora closed her eyes, not in piety, but memory. The warmth of June, the strength of June, the power of June, the rhythm of June, the vulnerability of June, the openness of June. All of these paradoxes... Then those blue eyes opened again, cold, hard and sharp. Almost defiant.

"And no apology..."

"Father, I have sinned,"

The young woman repeated then, but this time, the pleading faded away into pure statement of truth. A confession, but not one done in fear or guilt. Just one in plain acceptance, acknowledgement and agreement.

"For I have shunned your churches,"

She said, looking around at the wooden panels and stained glass. The steeple, the chapel, the pews, the Bibles and hymnals in every single one. All of them were beautiful, but in the way a Venus flytrap was beautiful, false, sickly sweet, full of lies, and dangerous.

"And scorned your priests,"

Although none were present, she could see the stuffy old white men in their stuffy old white robes of virtue clearly in her mind. Oh, how she hated them! And their stupid books that they carried around for all to see. But their noses were always in the air, so how did they ever even read what was in those books that they toted around so much?

"I have disgraced Adam and Eve,"

She said, turning to a mural on one of the walls of the chapel in which she prayed. It was masterpiece! Lovely to behold and obviously done with painstaking love and care. But the one thing more beautiful than Adam was Eve and more beautiful than her was the fruit hanging from the branch.

"With my poisoned apple..."

When she saw that perfectly round, red fruit, she could see June's plump red lips. She could smell the fresh and slightly wild scent of June's hair. She could feel the smooth, firm skin. And she could taste that sweet, sweet nectar that had so tempted and seduced Eve all those eons ago. Now she was at it again, the succulent taste too much to resist even now. She always came back for more, despite her Lord's warnings.

"Sweeter than your manna..."

Cora recalled the taste of June's lips and skin, warm and fresh. Was it what Eve had tasted when she took that first fateful bite? And if so, did Eve ever regret her mistake? Or had that one second with the apple been worth the punishment that followed? Was it so sweet and intoxicating as June?

"And freer than your garden,"

Cora now could see all the wild romps she and June had enjoyed, so madly in love. Every walk near a moonlit river, every run through a beautiful garden, their own paradise, every exploration in a new park, each prettier than the last. Surely Eden could never have compared for Eden never had June. Eden was constrained, one small garden with rules and borders. With June, it was a new Eden every day and there was no fear in any of them.

"My own personal genesis..."

In this church, she felt hollow, cold and dead. A puppet. With June, she felt like one coming to life again, a resurrection of love as powerful as Jesus'. She came alive again, breathing and moving. When she was with June, she became who she always was and who she was meant, truly, to be. It really was her own genesis, only this time she was both creator and creation. It was freedom and birth with no strings attached.

"Father, I have sinned,"

Cora uttered for the third time. Once for the Father, once for the Son, and once for the Holy Ghost. Or perhaps it was one for her Past, her Present, and her Future. Not God's future, the ordained path of righteousness, but the one she was choosing to write for herself.

"But you will not find me on my knees,"

She said, slowly rising from the alter.

"You will find me on my feet,"

She looked up at the golden cross hanging before her. It was beautiful, but she would not kneel to stone. She would only kneel to flesh. June's.

"You will find my hand in hers,"

The young woman vowed, already feeling June's phantom fingers twining with her own, expressing so much based on how she held Cora's hand. She was dragging the girl along, holding her close for comfort and support, she was pulling her back in for another kiss, asking her to stay, she was squeezing Cora's hand to show unity, she was gripping the girl's fingers in childish excitement, their hands were held during their most private of moments. Their hands were a symbol of them, and nothing else.

"I have loved her with defiance,"

Cora decided, thinking upon every time someone had frightened her away, but that was one thing Cora always noticed about herself. No matter who warned her away from June, although Cora would always agree for a time, she always, always, ALWAYS came back to June in the end. It wasn't the defiance that was big or bold, but it was still a defiance, just quieter, gentler. It was not the roaring lion, but the mouse that was not afraid of the lion. In this case, the Lion of Judea. Against, or perhaps with, better judgement, Cora never managed to stay away from her temptation for long.

"I have screamed from lips that drip with love and lust!"

Cora's breathing grew heavy as she thought of the passion and anguish both that she had screamed. The agony, guilt and despair that was always chorused with the pure ecstasy and the sense of fullness and pleasure. Her mouth was always open and never soundless, screaming out how much she loved June, even if June was the only one to hear these open-mouthed gasps and cries.

"I worship at her alter."

Cora said firmly, deciding her true allegiance. It was not to God's feet that she fell willingly, it was to June's. It was to June's she surrendered total control with a blissful and willing smile on her face. It was at June's feet she fell every time, undone by everything that beautiful conundrum of a woman did. It was not any of God's miracles or promises, it was simply the apparition of one of his angels. This was what broke Cora every time, her savior and her condemner, her Eden, her Apple, her Serpent, her Angel, her everything. Her freedom and her choice.

"Father, I have sinned. And I do not ask forgiveness."

AN: I found this poem written in a poetry book published by IU Bloomington's Hutton Honors College. The book was called "Labyrinth" and the poem, written by someone named Abby M, was called "Heaven Above/Below". I just had to write a fic about it because it was such a powerful poem to me. It hit really close to home, and I wanted to share it with everyone else because I think it deserves to be told (and this is coming from a girl who doesn't normally like/read poetry). It's so beautiful and intense, I hope everyone enjoyed.