Mud Bath

Gripped, drawn down and held by the mud, The mud that covers your bones, To cleanse every blemish on your beautiful skin, To hide what remains of your clothes, Till you become a moving statue, A David or a Venus with arms, Both pure and soft with an elegant smile, Erasing your inner most scars, You’re a moving shadow of happy and free, A flower pot built up from the ground, You become a symbol of honest and true, You become fresh and happy and proud, Whenever you soak in the bath filled with hope, Whenever you tub in the mud, Whenever you allow all your nerves to unleash, And bathe with all of Earth’s love.