Beneath the Grime
Enough of the day has passed,
the work, the grime, the day to day mess
that seems to be so in demand,
enough of it has passed
that you can cease being automatic,
wipe away the dirt and sadness and lies
and see the beauty there,
even your own.
About this poem
It has been one of those days where I hit the ground working, charging into all the stuff I had to do, and finally, at 3:23 PM, I can stop. I can breathe deeply. And feel the truths in the air. The beauty that too often gets lost. At times, even mine.
The painting is a detail of one of mine.