Act of Contrition | final version

I confess to you, forgotten apple tree
Swaying by the sandy road
And to you, rose bush, wild
And yet so gentle
I confess to you, poppies and cornflowers
The most beautiful of the beautiful
And to you, humble wagtail, grey
I believe it was not my fault
And to you, great stone
Beside which I knelt
I have the feeling you have grown through all these years
You have been lifted from my heart

I confess in the plain open field
That I have sinned through my own fault

In what I have failed to do

Through lack of beauty in what I have done

In my thoughts and in my words

And when there is nothing more to be said
I return to myself

Pure as the tears
I left behind to give drink to a doe

Nibbling the young shoots of grain nearby

She and God be my witnesses