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5, 7, 0

Updated: May 28, 2020

5 is for the five stages of grief (losing oneself to find it again is painful) 

7 - for the seven times Naaman had to wash himself to cleanse himself of the leprosy he was cursed with. 

0 - Rebirth.

I look down to see the infestation crawling up my arms

A slow pollute

Bubbling and boiling my skin 

Like Napalm, melting the flesh off these weary bones

I lift my head and seek for the light

The words leave my lips - a prayer

They shake and it devours 

The quiver runs its length down my spine 

Pulling the weeds as I dip for the first time in gentle waters 

At first I refused

I denied but as the power drained from me 

I gave in 

Bitterly, my sordid body engulfed by the water 

I breach the surface a second time and I scream 

The pain of regret, a sharp whistle through my veins 

Slicing through me as a blade through a silken cloth 

The second time- anger struck me 

As the wounds burned 

I growl out to God, cursing his name 

When time came for the forth wash 

I plead to him most high 

To cease this pain 

Called out his name to an empty sky that through only the sun shone 

Aggravating the itch 

By the sixth wash - I felt as if nothing had changed 

But Elisha had promised this leprosy be had out of my skin 

The scars were torn open - pools of red forming an arch around my bare self 

And I waited 

For, the 7th time would be the last-  the prophet had promised 

Melancholy grips me tight and holds me her prisoner

A lady in black 

The enemy - this darkness will not call my name to summon 

Puss oozes and I tumble 

For the final time, I fall in- pulling the weight of my penance down with me

My wounds cried red 

My mind far from this place now 

I splurge myself in the waters 

I fight to stay beneath 

Willing my lungs to withstand the pressure 

I will be healed 

As I rise through the surface, 

there is only peace 

The sun doesn’t burn 

Instead it soaks into my skin like a balm 

The pains on myself have crusted over 

A reminder that they were there 

Though, if it weren’t for that tiny glimmer of hope left sparking inside of me 

I would still be ruminating in the pestilence that plagued me 

So, as I rise- I rise with intent 

As I rise, I am no longer bitter 

As I wake from the dreary depth that I had planted myself in - I am alive 

I leave cursed blessings behind me 

I am the Phoenix rising through the ashes 

The faith of walking on stormy waters 

I have lived 

I shall live again 

I live


By Andie Nannie Fine

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