Confession

Words usually flow from me with ease
when I write, but here I am now
at a complete loss about what to confess . . .

My Messiah Complex bristles and is up in arms!
“Confession? What sin have I committed
to admit it, feel guilty and confess?
You know how transparent I am.
and are the same inside and outside”!
However, I am aware that I have a shadow.
and do fervently deny my blind-spots
ignoring them, though I know they are there.
It is tough to own up and admit mistakes.
as it is so much easier to point a finger
at another, forgetting that the other
four fingers are pointing at you!
Is this what I am trying to do?

Some outsiders appreciate me,
but my immediate family,
especially my husband, is very critical.
I did confess in the Introduction to my book
that, “though we are as different as two poles,
my husband and I have managed to cope
these last sixty years”, but relented
when a friend made me change it to
‘despite differences’ so that is that!
Sometimes self-doubt engulfs me
when my children too find fault with me
though I did the best I could for all of them.
Understanding dawns when I realize
that I need to be their handy scapegoat
for all their woes, so I accept that role too.

Yes, I confess that I have always accepted
the ups and downs of my allotted life,
and am aware of my limitations.
I may have made genuine mistakes
but I have no regrets in life
as I have always tried to do
the very best I can in all my endeavors
and I am at peace with myself,
and I feel the guiding hand
of that great Omnipotent Power
that is God on my shoulder.

Things happen to me time and time again
like how the pleasant teacher I asked for help
walked with me far out of her way
to carry my bags and escort me
to The Tamil Conference May 15, 2010
although she was late for work, confirming
that God’s help is always there for me.
I may stumble and wander
but I have faith that He will not let me fall
as I am in tune with Him
and I feel His strength perennial
filling me up with grace
and my vessel overflows with gratitude . . .

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