Purify
I’ll scrape this mud off of my heels -
That’s caked from years of trudging.
And soak these wounds in orange peels -
To persuade scabs into budging.
This bar of soap, my sword of choice -
Will slay bruises that have haunted.
Replacing aches with citrus’ voice -
Who soothingly tunes the daunted.
This plunge of water, warm and welled -
Will calm my anxious weather.
And put to rest thoughts that rebelled -
As I bathe in crystal summer.
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