The Omission

She sat there with her sponsor,
an empty chair triangled.
For God, the sponsor said.
Hours passed as resentment
followed anger, as shame emerged,
as a life of anger paraded in their midst.
She came willing to tell it all, the lot,
to claim relief as others had.
But pride held fast that one dark act
she’s sworn she’d never tell,
the one she knew would haunt her
when she took it to her grave.
“Anything else?” the sponsor asked
as the sun began to set. She shook her head,
bit her tongue, she’d laid out all the rest.
The sponsor had tired – they both were keen to go.
But one more thing could not have turned
the sponsor’s wrath on her. A harmless fault
it must have been. But one that festered,
broiled, the one that drove her out.