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