day 26; this devil called shame

In every white morning
there is pain lying in wait.
It seeps in and out of the window frames,
soaks into our skin while we sleep.
It falls into the valley
and pollutes the little creeks,
each dead and diseased tree,
as we try to eek out some meaning
from the greying heron and the jewelweed.

We did not ask for its company,
this devil called Shame.
It cares not what we should like—
its spores infest our eyes,
burrow deep into our ears.
We have spent years trying
to scrub it from our skin,
but its offspring swelter and soak
In frayed nerves and tired arguments.

It’s made enemies of us;
so why do we keep feeding it?