Soul Cleansing

I was baptized at thirteen

In a muddy, slow-moving river

While a choir belted out Take Me To The Water

And fishermen gawked from upstream

 

Brother Roscoe lifted my head above the current

And I watched my sins drift away

Bobbing among sticks and leaves and dirty foam

Before disappearing in the morning sun

 

I waded out, my soul and conscience both scrubbed clean.

Later I embraced the fact that sin,

Much like fresh-shaven peach fuzz,

Has a tendency to grow back thicker


Author Notes

Trying a little more poetry. Be gentle.

13 Comments for “Soul Cleansing”

Anisa Claire

says:

WOW! Dave! Absolutely. Love. This. I don’t know if I want it to be a poem, though, or an intro to a story. It’s incredible. You held me in the moment and really left me wanting to know more.

Anisa

says:

Thanks, Anisa! This was one of my first efforts at poetry. I love free-form, but it did read a little prose-y. It could go either way. I’m thinking about using it as part of a story down the road. (I’m definitely a recycler).

says:

I never knew peach fuzz grew back! The analogy did bring the hit home, even though that kind of stumped me. You bring this glorious baptism to rest on a more clear fact. Well done. I like your poetry as it is free-verse with words that do bring it back into congruency that may not always rhyme but sound similar. I am a free-verse writer of poetry most of the time so I do admire this.

Wait, were you talking peach fuzz on a young man’s face???? Forgive me, I think I missed the mark. lol

says:

Thanks, Becky! I enjoy free verse. I bought a poetry-writing book that tells me what I’m writing isn’t actually poetry, but prose with different line breaks. I don’t care, it’s all good to me.

And what type of peach fuzz were you thinking about, hmmmmm?

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