Pardon
I.
He’s feared one thing all his life.
The prisoner shuffles ahead,
clatters his leg-irons.
Beside him, a silvered preacher whispers.
Staccato clip of shined shoes on flecked tile—
a guard knelling last steps.
II.
The ceremony prepared,
an electric hum fills the room, droning
against another sound—he’s trembled
in its wake for years. His breaths catch
in the humid air: a ragged respite
from the surge of his fears.
III.
The faucet stops its spill, and in the stillness
he masters himself: he is the one
who has asked for this sacrifice.
But in his water-terror white knuckles grip
the metal basin’s sides before
surrender, an immersion into dread:
In the name of the Father,
the Son,
and the Holy Spirit,
I baptize you
for the remission
of your sins . . . .
In a spluttering resurrection it is finished.
(originally appeared in The Penwood Review)