Thursday, August 13, 2009

Wash Me

A night of rain. Today the leaves are glossy
clean. Like glasses from behind a bar
that sat for years accumulating dirt
and spiders, till one day the barman took
them down and washed them. Like the unused dressy
shoes that hid their dust in closets, far
from public view, until a brand-new shirt
called for a polished pair, to make the look.

An unattended heart can gather grime
and rain won't sluice away the hidden layers
that build up like the black-lung in a coal
extractor's chest. It's lethal stuff. It's time
I paid some more attention to my prayers.
A finger's writing "WASH ME" on my soul.

window courtesy of Karin Lindstrom; texture overlay courtesy of Pedro Simão
Collection available! Knocking from Inside


Michelle Johnson said...

This is another example of great writing. I can remember my papaw having black lung from working in the coal mines.

A heart that's been covered over for years from different challenges along the way can never be completely rinsed of their problems. Well done. Have a great day.

Linda Jacobs said...

Powerful ending!

Stan Ski said...

same could apply to all of us...