My back porch,
Stained with interlocking layers of black muck and dirt,
Going unnoticed over time,
Thinking it’s the norm.
In preparation for a function, my telescopic eyes perk up from the submarine of ignorance,
Noticing that the surface colour is muck and dirt, not the original.
Inviting a friend with a weapon of mass destruction – the power wash machine,
We declared war on the muck and dirt,
With water as our bullets
Breaking up the marriage between the surface and dirt.
The breaking up of this marriage was hard labour.
Back pain, aching feet, dripping sweat, vibrating arms, and tanned skin.
Of course, let’s not forget days to recover from aches and pains.
I was momentarily imprisoned in admiration, remarking,
“This exquisite beauty has been masked for years!”
This lingering awe buried in my mind and heart,
Germinating a plant of meaning.
Habits and attitudes have unknowingly become mucky,
Clinging perniciously to us on life’s journey,
Hiding the splendor of the human heart.
Like a power wash machine, fasting, prayer, and almsgiving needs a partner,
Baptismal Water for cleansing and purification.
Washing away the dirt and muck of sin.
Finally, revealing the glory of the human person on the resurrection morn.
Lent and the Powerwash Machine