The Priest

All it takes is a touch
This necessity like food, water
Taught to be ignored, shunned

A desire that breeds on a pew
Reflects against a lifetime vow
Inserts itself where no one has been

I’m innocent, the comparison of good
But what is innocence when kept
In a glass as we age and engage

Perfection is taught yet doesn’t exist
For every thought, there’s a sin
Crawling toward a tender spot

It wakes me beside a cross
Between legs I’ve not toured
Only envisioned with confliction

Here you sit quietly with intention
As I pray with you, for you
You grasp my hand, my dedication at stake

I know who I am, fear who I can be
I embrace what you’ve offered
This tangible craving, I’m not immune