Poems and Poetry

Our Morning Showers | A Poem by J.K. Durick

Sometimes, it’s like a baptism,
the baptism of our new day,
a ritual we repeat, know so well,
stand naked, as at our birth, with
hot water, soap and shampoo
we are born again; cleansed of
the night before, and yesterday
in its entirety, we can dry ourselves
of blame and dress our new part,
in the innocence of clean clothes
we can step out once more into
the waiting world we know so well;
this is as far as all our godliness
ever gets us.

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