Butcher's block

Butcher’s block                                                                              
 
Early each morning Your Tomb is wiped down
like a butcher’s block; sanskaras removed
 
from the surfaces and crevices, residue
of shattered hearts, splintered egos, broken minds
 
cleared for the new day’s filth and muck
laid at Your feet, hefted onto Your shoulders,
 
returned to the nothingness which they are
and from which they came.
 
O child of God, you sense the mystery of His Samadhi,
but the work that occurs there daily, you can never comprehend. 

                                     (from A Jewel in the Dust, 2011)