Dear Friend

When I shall choose to love,
I choose to baptise this love,
To wash my lover and let him wash me
For I continuously wash myself
In the flowing river that leads me towards him,
I wash myself of hardened skin,
Of past dirt and any future hope
Of past names and any future hope.
I wish to wash his back
Of any past that may burden
I wish to wash his arms and hands,
The ones he uses to act;
His neck,
The one through which he speaks
Only unburdened truth
His ears,
So that my truth shall never deafen him
His hair,
So that the mind it covers
Await no moment further
His eyes, through which
He may see me whole
His cheeks,
Of any past tears,
His mouth,
Of any hurtful words.
And then his chest,
Through which his heart shall beat
Without the burden of fear.
Then his vibrating abdomen,
Holding his courage in one place,
And then his legs and feet
So that no shackles ever hold his pace.
And he shall wash me clean,
Although I've cleaned myself
Along the journey towards him
He shall wash me clean
Of all my past awaiting
And I shall call him Free.