How can someone atone for a sin they cannot name?

It was Yom Kippur. The four of us donned formal wear.
Mom was anxious & had to double-check the locks, making us late.
Dad yelled, cursing the heavens. Our annual ritual—
fasting, & then rushing out to Wendy’s at 4 o’clock to break.

How can someone atone for a sin they cannot name?

Among the crowded, ticketed, gussied-up masses,
we filed into pray, to atone
for our sins. I was 11, obediently taking in
the words of teshuva:

For transgressions against God, the Day of Atonement atones;
but for transgressions of
one human being against another,
the Day of Atonement does not atone
until they have made peace with one another.

How can someone atone for a sin they cannot name?
How can I forgive my brother for a sin he will never confess—
not to me or our parents?

After the afternoon service, we got our single combos:
square burgers, golden & salty fries, ice-cold Sprite.
I squirted the ketchup into two rimmed paper cups.
We devoured in near silence.

– Phil Goldstein

Author’s Note: “A Prayer for Repentance” finds the speaker at a very distinctive time in his life: a young boy, 11 years old, part of a family, dutifully attending High Holy Days services, specifically for Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. It is clear that something extremely heavy is weighing on him – even heavier than normal on the most solemn day of the Jewish calendar, when Jews are asked to contemplate their sins from the past year and seek atonement. The speaker is unsure of what to do, how to approach this somewhat mystical process for a sin he cannot name, nor will anyone ever really name: the fact that his older brother is molesting him. As the poem declares, quoting the English translation of of a crucial Yom Kippur prayer:

“For transgressions against God, the Day of Atonement atones;
but for transgressions of
one human being against another,
the Day of Atonement does not atone
until they have made peace with one another.”

Will this ever be possible? Can it be? These questions swirl around the speaker as he carries on normal routines. I wrote this poem to reckon with that uncertainty, and the terrible loneliness a child who has been sexually abused faces, especially if their abuser is a member of their family. That boy is ultimately not alone, but he feels so desperately isolated, from God, from his family and from himself.