Baptism

As I approached the tree
She was waiting for me
Scrubbing brush in hand
A tub of suds
At her feet.
I’ve been waiting
She said
I knew you’d come
To the Tree.
First you must wash
Away all the debris
A baptism of sorts
To wash away
Your demons and doubts
To purge your thoughts
Cleanse your mind
And your soul
As you emerge
From your cathartic
Rebirth
Ready to begin
A-new.



© Megan Warren 8/01/06