The Cleansing
It is as if the fire had burned everything
My transition back to where I began
Before I became an ordinary man
Before memories were made, and all my life
Became a museum of a past I could not hold
What there was to show
The way the fire consumes dry grass
So everything I carefully stored in trust
Was rotted with water from melted ice
Mildewed and bagged by people nice
Of bread I did not even save the crust
Almost naked
Almost fortuneless
Almost forsaken
I felt my root bite into blanched earth
And fiber by fiber fed new birth
It was hard finding of old ways here
A sudden desolateness almost caused despair
But the root had something vital in it
A drive, a determination, a belief
In God that the fire could not bring to grief
So shorn of every memory like mowed grass
Dusted further by a sudden drought
So desolate that nothing again can sprout
I without the bagage of the past am clean
Severed from satellites and star sheen.
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