Clean

Sometimes no amount of oxygen can cleanse our lungs,
Sometimes, it takes water to allow us to feel like we’ve once again just begun.

Coldness touching every part of old and hurt
And washing it away, as a landslide with dirt.

Sometimes the biggest breath of fresh air we need,
Is just under the surface, where all our shackles can break free.

Head submerged, just us and the silence,
Heavy with scars, our bruises drift off in an instance.

We go under water as one person and come out another,
We enter weighed down and exit lighter.

It’s true the water washes us clean,
Us and water have secrets that remain unseen.

Poems and EssaysSkye Schanzer