Beautiful words for a broken woman.
Victorian Sweep Boy
Scrubbing My Soul, by Amy Israelson
wondering if I can ever beat
Beat this anger that is bubbling up inside of me.
It feels wild, volatile, untamed;
Like a whip, eager to lash out –
to sting like I’ve been stung!
The kindness of yesterday melts away like a spring snowfall, revealing the dirt and grime underneath.
It is ugly.
I feel ugly.
Years of dirt and decay lie exposed.
Hate: rotten, stinking, potent.
How can this be inside of ME?
I look away.
Yet the storm brews.
I stir; wondering how to calm the soul within.
The Psalmist says:
“I have stilled and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
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