Dry cleaner

 

I wish there were a dry cleaner for the soul

Wait ten minutes, we’ll mend any holes!

Clean out the soot, remove all the stains

Have it back in a flash, free from all pain.

 

But then what would I do with a soul sparkling clean?

While my thoughts are riddled, ugly and mean

This pure soul would take a look at the shell

Who’d housed it in good, yet brought it through hell.

 

It would want to flee, fly far from its home

But knowing to do so would leave me to roam

Without a beacon, some promise of hope

Body without soul is unable to cope

 

Instead of fleeing into the light

My soul would give over with nary a fight

And so I’d be saddled once more with a hole

Which used to be, once, a beautiful soul.

(C) Sara Ackerman, 2019

 

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