[Private] Don't Bless Me Father

My Grandmother had once said. That it wasn’t what you believed in that mattered but the fact you had faith. While I couldn’t get into the idea of this Priests God, I could feel the similarities. His life like mine revolved around doing the bidding of a higher power. “Prophecy is everything to me, without it…” I paused trying to see myself without a purpose. It was more painful that the thought of being forever alone. “My ancestors guide me, I trust in their judgement, my faith is probably stronger than yours Priest. I’ve given up Family, security, stability because they have told me to.” Onyx was right it was fucking crazy. To blindly follow. He didn’t fucking understand. Hearing their voices, speaking only to you. Directing your hand towards what was intended. While it may be a treacherous road and caused me to question their feelings towards me, I had to listen. I just fucking had to.

Suddenly feeling bonded to this Priest I turned completely towards the grated window, not to try and see the face I was speaking to, but to make the promise seem more, solid. “Sounds good Father, when the time comes when I can kick the Fanger Juice, you can show me your stuff.” None of the other wolves would ever have to know. I could raise my head in the presence of Ouray, Camille and Jonah without them having to see the depths I had to drop to, to accomplish it. Weakness could be lain at the feet of this collared man, who was probably bound by fucking God or some shit to forgive it. I could be terrified and no one who mattered would ever have to see.

I fucking hated people being sorry. It was a pitiful shit of a word and meant absolutely nothing. I was sorry for a lot of things but that didn’t fucking change them. It didn’t make it fucking okay that it happened. “Don’t be, pity just gives us all a way out of the shit things we do…I’ll own this, I’ll make amends, I just don’t intend for it to happen again.” Hurting them when I knew what I was doing was different. In the heat of battle, to defend myself or if it came to a point, where I had to accept that they were always going to hate me…it was different. Until then, I was going to take the role of junkie guardian angel. My halo might be busted as shit, my wings torn with feathers falling out all over the place, but I had a duty to uphold.
 
“I’m meant for great things.” This was a statement I wholeheartedly believed in. What I was meant to fucking do I didn’t know, but all of this couldn’t be for nothing. “My ancestors know what’s best for me, but they speak so fucking cryptically.” I almost wanted to tell him my prophecy. Which was fucking weird. Maybe the smell of cinnamon and coconut was rotting my brain. Or the church itself was causing me to lose my shit.

Looking down at my phone again I stared at what had first gotten me so upset when I’d entered the confessional. Fuck. Tears spray to my eyes and I blinked them through my eyelashes. “I’ll admit I don’t really understand love, and how to show it, what it looks like, but everything I do is for fucking love.” It was who and what was important that got me confused. Getting tugged this way and that. Every moment someone or something rose to the surface, caught my attention. Then there was always a constant which threatened all others. That was the selfish love and in the same breath, the most pure. “Just have to cross my fingers and wait for that moment that love and duty shake fucking hands, because right now, it’s one or the other.”


It was fucked but this had helped. I was aware of some things I hadn’t considered and having spoken my devotion to my ancestors aloud had somehow, made that feeling stronger. If only I could find a way to entwine that with what I wanted and needed too. “We’d be here all week if I continue and I have more than enough to think about.”

I would never take her devout faith away from her. No matter the being, I would never minimize or make their faith insignificant by comparison. I found myself relating to what she had said, in so many ways. But I was not God, I was just a man. I felt my faith was strong, but was hers stronger than mine? Was mine stronger than hers? It was not a competition, it was not something to win, it just was. And so bold, she had been, to claim her faith was stronger than mine, but she was not wrong in her statement because in faith, there was there was no wrong in the eyes of the faithful. She had just proven the strength of her God, or Gods, the strength of her faith. It was always a humbling and endearing experience to have the strengths of ones spirit expressed boldly and so absolutely. You are on an important path indeed. I spoke soft, but in my tone rooted itself into honesty and admiration, but more importantly acceptance.

And my assumptions were made a certainty at the sound of her voice on the other side. She was not ready to be free of what was binding her. No matter how much I wanted to help those in trouble, it was never easy to wait for them to be ready for help. Just as it was never easy to hear one in such hostility towards the idea of empathy from another. It was a lonely thing, not wanting to share in your burdens when there were so many that could help carry the weight of them. It was a fate that few could truly understand, and it saddened me truly and deeply. That is a wise start. I acknowledged, shedding my tone of it's sympathies and replacing it with encouragement.

Riddles of destiny... A title I had thought of many times. One that seemed more appropriate for her at this point in her life. But in riddles... Or cryptic messages... The importance of the journey to discovering it's meaning can be more meaningful than the answer itself. Words that could either mean something, or nothing, as with any words one chose to speak. Even more relevant was the truth of that if she was what I thought her to be. Her kind was unpredictable, complicated in their own way, and incredibly simple in others. That simplicity came through only a moment later. As love was not always something to be seen or understood. Sometimes it was just something to be, to feel.

When everything you do is for something you don't understand... I cannot think of a better definition for faith. She had put it beautifully, and in her own way, through her own troubles, as I hoped I had helped her, she had helped me take hold of something I'd since let go of. A memory. I wish you luck in that task... I paused, sensing her impending leave. I absolve you from your sins. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit... I paused... lowering my tone... Amen. I refrained from recommending penance, I refrained from reciting a verse... I had a feeling it would not mean that much to her anyway.