Nameless

[11.8.11]

Scrub scrub porcelain curves
left and right
up and down the under belly
chemical tickling my nose
clean sweeping cloth catching
dust, grime; kicks up of life.
Her story plays in my ears
like gentle notes reminding
of the beauties of my pleasured existence.

The hard, porcelain facts
that my body can crouch,
bend, reach, scrub
such a trivial thing as a toilet.

Playing on and on
rising up as gentle, pure tides,
her testimony washes me.
Glimmering truths I have yet
to know, but can feel the light of
in this small room,
Even as my body quietly pulses and aches
through another cycle,
my movement is ease.
She speaks of divinity, of purpose,
of privilege.
I scrub over and under and know
I have purpose,
I have privilege.
My body works, cleans, runs.
My breath is blessed and even.
My life is beautiful
full of simple, wonderful, capability
and promise.

One day with another cloth
I will wipe the goobers
from my baby's eyelashes.
Left and right,
up and down.
And it will be a gentle privilege.
To be able to lift and stand
and rock my children until their breath
becomes even.
Until like the tides they subside into
temporary slumbers.
Blessed to awaken to lives
of purposeful simplicities.
Divine and beautiful.