Faith crisis poetry

Clean again

  1. Standing in my grave, grey clouds all around.
  2. Life of signs and keys, with me in the ground.
  3. Shiver in the cold, blinded by the dark;
  4. Silenced voice and soul; empty, lifeless heart.
  5. Then I feel a drop fall upon my brow,
  6. Second, and a third—downpour on me now.
  7. Rain washes away caked-on grief and pain;
  8. As the raindrops cease, I’m made clean again.
  9. Ling’ring on the air, scent of wash-ed earth;
  10. Blossoms from the trees, fruit before their birth:
  11. Drifting through my lungs, richen every breath,
  12. Cleanse inside my soul; life replacing death.
  13. Mighty came the tongues rushing through the trees,
  14. Whirling ’round me now, mitigating breeze.
  15. Wind whips through my hair, wicks away the rain,
  16. Wraps my body whole, comforts and ordains.
  17. Sun upon my face, close my eyes to bask.
  18. Burning, tingling rays melt away the mask.
  19. Dipped in flaming pow’r. Dove perched on my heart.
  20. Wave goodbye to end, turn around to start.

Listen to me read my poem and explain its symbolism:

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By Kim Siever

I live in Lethbridge with my spouse and 4 of our 6 children. I’m a writer, focusing on political news, social issues, and the occasional poem. My politics are radically left.

I’m also dichotomally Mormon. And I’m a functional vegetarian: I have a blog post about that somewhere around here. My pronouns are he/him, and I’m queer.

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