First Confession 

First Confession 

By: Lian Sing

Where they saw God, I only saw colorful, fractured glass. In secret, I desired such clarity of vision. Solace in  faith. The altar of my childhood home honors Christ, multiple buddhas, and several pieces of amethyst all gray  with dust. Above the entrance door, with a xeroxed poster of the sacred heart to ward off illness and evil, is a  cheap bagua. Next door is a chapel, but I have not attended mass there since I was five. Even now the rosary  remains to me a mystery, but I ask myself the same questions Job did daily. I whisper apologies to trees, kiss  gratitude into my bread, and press my palm onto stones as if looking to sync heartbeats. In accepting the truth  of tides, it seems only logical to believe the moon somehow has a hold on my mood. Where I place mirrors— never in front of the bed or on the South wall—is still a matter of safety. I feel lonely trying to pray. Although  when I am desperate to find what I have lost, I often fall to my knees and beg for reprieve. On other days I  would wait for the duende to return my missing pen, dropping it out of thin air. Here, a flicker. An  understanding. Still, all the stories we tell ourselves when a storm takes lives away—earthly wrath, heaven’s  justice, absolute randomness—taste like sand in the mouth. For our horrors there must be judgment, so we  make them, even in error. I have made many myself. The Tower flies out of my hand, as does the woman,  kneeling, pouring water into the pool. I find myself, much later, reading this ancient book. Our past gives  markers for memory not revelation, so I walk for purpose elsewhere. Here. I think I have seen it, rustling leaves,  that iridescent sheen…

Lian Sing
Born and raised in Manila, Lian Sing currently writes from a tiny home on wheels in central Texas. She received her degree in Comparative Literature from the University of the Philippines Diliman, and has work published in Meridian, Quarter After Eight, The Journal of Southeast Asian Ecocriticism, Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine, and elsewhere. Her chapbook Revelations (forthcoming from Factory Hollow Press) was selected by Hoa Nguyen as the winner of the 2023 Tomaž Šalamun Prize. Presently, she works at the Science Mill in Johnson City.
Featured Image By: Lian Sing

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