Washed and Softened: How a Morning Spill and a Flying Dove Cleansed My Soul

 

Washed and Softened

 When a messy morning spill at work turns into a sacred metaphor for cleansing and grace. A poetic reflection on being washed, softened, and the silent message of a visiting dragonfly.

The Sacred Pause: Finding Everyday Grace in a Spill, a Flight, and a Dry Pen

The Sacred Pause

I walked into the morning light, 

To find a green and soapy pool, 

A sudden, messy workplace sight— 

My spirit whispered,

“Clean my soul.”

Two fallen bottles, side by side, 

Had spilled their grace upon the floor,

 To wash away the dust and pride, 

And soften what was bruised before. 

A dragonfly went drifting by, 

A silent guide upon the wing, 

No words of warning in the sky, 

Just peace in every passing thing.

And on the porch, before their flight, 

The baby doves returned to play, 

To bless the nest that held them tight 

Before they winged their lives away. 

I had no lens to catch their grace,

 No photograph to hold them still—

 But beauty left its fleeting trace 

Upon the heart, against the will.

At last, the quiet evening crept, 

I sat to ink the sacred spark, 

But as the busy household slept,

 My trusty pen ran cold and dark.

 No words on paper could be spun, 

The ink had dried, the day was through— 

The cleaning of the soul was done, 

And left me still, and soft, and new.