Ritual

“I had to be pure so that you could be clean by proxy”

Photo: John Slater/Collection:DigitalVision/Getty Images

You never let me come to bed without washing my feet.
A ritual.
A cleansing act.
I had to be pure so that you could be clean by proxy.

You never let me come without covering my mouth.
A ritual.
A devotional practice.
I had to be silent so that others would not know my pleasure or my pain.

You always made me come to your place.
A ritual.
A sacred pilgrimage.
I had to make the effort so that you could remain where you were.

And now we come to the end.
A ritual.
A funereal rite.
I had to bury you so that I could unearth me.