I stand and imagine that the hot water pouring over my body can pull away the pain, draw it out from my skin, coax it from my bones, erase it from my mind, and then wash it all down – from this home, from this place, from this state, where it joins a river of pain from you, from thee, from them, from thine, flowing ever flowing to some deep, impossibly dark, cold bottom to there be buried beneath the detritus of all, to decay its half-life of millenniums upon millenniums.
I wobble from heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe, wishing it to be so, as I turn up the heat. I deem the water’s increasing temperature to be all the more penetrating, and ever more so, and ever more so.
And what pain cannot be drained is steamed away up heavenward through air, sky, and ozone to the highest of highs and then to God to be claimed, calmed, and forgiven, and from there to be drained, poured, and rained into the widest of galaxies and darkest of black holes.
For a moment, I do leave it bereft there, outside the wet warmth, waiting to embrace me with its full measure – while holding hands with my dreams.
Loren M. Lambert © December 15, 2013
I wobble from heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe, wishing it to be so, as I turn up the heat. I deem the water’s increasing temperature to be all the more penetrating, and ever more so, and ever more so.
And what pain cannot be drained is steamed away up heavenward through air, sky, and ozone to the highest of highs and then to God to be claimed, calmed, and forgiven, and from there to be drained, poured, and rained into the widest of galaxies and darkest of black holes.
For a moment, I do leave it bereft there, outside the wet warmth, waiting to embrace me with its full measure – while holding hands with my dreams.
Loren M. Lambert © December 15, 2013
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