Writing Cleans My Mind
And makes me feel whole again
Writing is…
Who I call in the middle of the night to drive me home when I have had too much to think,
The dustpan and the broom that sweeps me off the floor when I am broken into a thousand pieces,
The glue that puts me back together,
The mop that cleans up aisle Gregory when I have spilled myself across the marketplace.
The diligent maid who vacuums under the couch and dusts the corners of my mind,
The barge that dredges the bottom of my brain to remove the darkest mud,
The junkyard manager who crushes old and worn-down thoughts in the machine that flattens cars,
The garbage man that takes out the trash of my mind.
The highest option at the car wash that deep cleans my mind and then applies a protective layer of mental wax,
What allows me to unpack the suitcase of thoughts I have been carrying around as I see which thoughts should be thrown away and which ones simply need washing,
My teacher, mentor, coach, therapist, best friend, and most intimate lover,
The one person who has seen the darkest depths of my mind and still unconditionally loves me.
