Classic Poem

The unusual saint of this age,
it had an affinity for water,
suave and of lively disposition,
unreservedly friendly toward all.

Asking no payment whatever,
it dissolved its whole body and as if forgiving our sins
washed our dirty hands,
erased all sorts of impurities carried from outside
and those memories we wished to forget.
Even when its holy ministrations were forgotten
and its master went forth smelling,
it never condemned or told us to clean up a checkered past,
only silently cleansed our most shameful places
and our hidden weaknesses,
never revealing our secrets.

As it lived in an ever more soiled world,
a life consumed for a clean conclusion
it was beautiful and too soon gone,
shedding its precious blood sacrificially in self-giving,
the unusual saint of this age.

Today
as though receiving its laying on of hands
I washed my face and hands,
washed my body and felt an expiation for my sins.