Monday, May 12, 2008

grace



encrusted and mired
by the grime
my heart struggles to beat
my lungs grasp and gasp
for clean air
the sticky slime
impedes me and yet
I cling to it
I want it
It fits me like a glove

I feel the first few drops
and then some more
a fierce torrent
falls gently on my head
the sludge works free 
it begins to slip
and slide
down my face 
off my body
I see clear, clean skin
and watch the oily slick
run in rivulets
making trails in the dirt at my feet
puddles form and worms die
stains are gone
and I
am clean


8 comments:

  1. Who are you? How come I can't write poetry?

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  2. nicely done, girl

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  3. did you write that? good job!

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  4. Clear imagery, weel chosen words, heartfelt emotion. Wow. Grace runs over me and it is beautiful. Your poem is really good, Kay!

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