Clean

Clean

A monster made of wind chases me

A twister brought about by parasites

blown together lies and half truths

catch my loves and I by a breeze

and turn upon us as a storm

The black dirt of words burned clings to me

I choke on air I've never spoken

Soiled in mud by rain I alone did not call

Dodging thunder and lightening from those who stole my sparks

to stoke their fires

I return to the Mother of my bones

Where the earth flows red as my blood

Where the only barrier is blue

Where the fields and my eyes share green

and where my ancestors are all that whispers on the wind

The Mother's gift is always there

and I wash away the filth of a lifetime's travel

stories under my nails

exaggerations stuck between my fingers

pictures tangled in my hair

all that I have done and not done

trapped in my pores

My soul learns the lessons of the sand then lets it go

My mind now crisp as air

My body clear as water

My spirit high as an ancient monolith

I am home

I am clean

December 15, 2002

Tressa Lee Breen