red

i scrub furiously, all this energy to come out in some way, best if productively. cleaning highchair grime from three years and counting, lifting stovetop eyes to erase rust/grease/dirt rings, washing walls and dishes, all the while praying and singing one refrain.



my washrag is red and unraveling a bit, and towards the end my hands are wrinkled and red. all this red to clean, and i think that's all it's ever taken--red running stripes to clean soul dirt.



work it out

figure it out

scrub harder on stains

use more effort

be better



these thoughts carry guilt and fight the stain that Red Love leaves. would i surrender self, stop working so very hard to just be, allow Red to cover and leave me blameless white?