Part of It

I rinse the dish.
I sweep the floor.
The three mile jog,
the one mile walk,
the kiss with my hand
on the small of her back,

all the bad choices,
all the failed plans,
the births, the sorrows,
the resurrection and
redemption of each tiny act-
these are all a part of it.

It flows together and mixes
until it’s all one color
and that’s the paint
I have to dip my brush in.

Here I am,
coating the damned walls with it,
day by day,
as I try to make something beautiful.

And you, as you read this,
are a part of it.

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