Scrubbed Clean

scrubbed clean,

the blue sky

scrapes

black space

and wind fills my face,

raises me to heights

beyond fear, beyond

siren-calls

at crossings

unstoppable

as ancient trains glide,

inexorably

grinding

fate;

but higher I’ll fly,

beyond the stench of ruin.

foul grief cannot follow

to where I’ll go, lifted

by the constant,

immaculate

wind.