No Scrubbing Needed - A Spiritual Poem by Nirmala

time on my hands
can I wash them clean
send the past down the drain
scrub away the future
leaving nice pink rosy fingers of now
touching everything within easy reach
and yet grasping only momentarily
to express my depth of gratitude
for the warmth in every touch
then releasing it forever

before a memory
sticks to my skin
and calls me back to the sink
for another washing

time out of my hands
I can only touch
but can never hold more than a single breath
until it too goes
leaving only another now
no scrubbing needed

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