Bit pot simmering on the fires of my soul
Stirred it for years, this stew, this bowl.
Work hard to keep the lid on if only I could
Foul gas escapes, rises and fills my hood.

In the dawn, I stir and take a look inside
Contents rise, hard to believe what I find.
Bitter beans, jealous greens, hangry ham, resentful rice,
Gumbo of disappointment, my supper every night.

Churning again, I go down, scraping the bottom.
Up rises my own face. Ah, that’s the problem.
Dirty soup is my shame. I know who’s to blame.
Hurts I savored and sliced, stewing the pain.

No more will I drink! I take the pot to pour it out.
Slow at first, but it comes spewing out of my mouth
Then out of my eyes, the soup flows in great drops
Living waters shower and scour, from bottom to top

Now my vessel is clean and waiting for you.
Empty of myself I ask for your elixir of love.
You pour and pour some more. How it overflows.
Bubbling, it won’t stop, bursting forth wherever I go.