Wash me,
drench me,
quench me.
Fill my eyes,
tears from the skies-
Mother Earth’s pain
and mine are one.
Let me drown in her sorrow
till the moon meets the morrow
where sunrise chases the night.
We are cleansed,
washed of sin,
born anew, fresh with dew,
winging, singing, as Spirit takes flight.
Cleansed
Cheryl KP
copyright 2015
Make Hugs Not War.
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Dr. Prashant (Medical Practitioner)
Very nice combination of words and images Cheryl. You do that so well.
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Thanks Dan
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Wow. Perfect blending of images and poetry yet again. I really, really like this 🙂
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Thank you Clarissa. I’m glad you iked it. Writing poetry heps me to remember what I know…
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Thanks Dan.
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