Confessions of a Left Hand

[newsclippings]

My God, forgive my hand, through this signum crucis
to the thigh, the arm, the flesh that denys, by that other hand.
Who sits there? In my cold passion, I can forgive what I must abhor;
it is me. I have been there, on the confession day. It is me
on another day or different deity. Different by whose design
if not yours...do I deny you your godly precision?
So to whom must I spill out the words, break my vows? Hold me.
Hold me to your cowardly, quiet, aquiescent faith...why do you not rebel?
I never touched a part of you that I could not touch by belief alone
and yet we are pilgrims on this unholy rack that stretches me to
break everything that is what I am. I am a man. Before God.

Catholics and their men in Christ
tectak
2013

Was hoping this would actually be about the left hand. I'm ambidextrous, but I write and draw with my left. So now I want to make a poem about my silly hands.