As most of you know I have been spending alot of time going through an amazing amount of my mother's and grandmother's collections of stuff. Most quotes and poems I have simply had to dispose of, but for some reason this poem appeals to me. Especially when I think of being a young mother with a house full of children. Thought you all might like it too. This poem was published in June 1985.
Dirty dishes, dirty laundry,
Dirty diapers, dirty floors,
Dirty walls, and dirty oven,
Dirty fingerprints on doors;
Filthy toilets, smudgy windows,
Muddy footprints, dusty stands,
Dirty trash, and dirty garbage,
Little children's dirty hands.
Sneaky dustballs, creepy cobwebs,
Crayon faces on the wall,
All combine to war against me--
Me, alone, against them all!
Still I battle bravely onward,
Till there's no more strength to borrow,
And each night I sleep victorious--
Just to find more dirt tomorrow!
So it seems a losing battle.
Fighting dirt takes all my time.
How can I remain "unspotted"
In a world of dirt and grime?
When my life on earth has ended
And my hands no longer hurt,
When the fight I've fought is finished
And I'm buried deep in dirt.
When my eyes at last are opened
And I see that heavenly shore,
Will I find the rest I've worked for--
Free from every grimy chore?
Will my days be long and restful?
Will my home stay squeaky clean?
Will I spend my time in leisure,
Like a spoiled and pampered queen?
Will I garden dirtless flowers?
Will my windows gleam and shine?
Will my hands stay soft and silky
As a blossom on the vine?
Will my dishes never soil?
Will my floors stay shining bright?
Will my laundry never mildew
While I lounge from morn till night?
Or when I receive my glory,
Could it be? Aya, there's the rub--
Will I find, in that great mansion
More celestial floors to scrub!