Poem: Grace

Yesterday, I opened a bottle of body scrub
gifted to me by my mom.
The scent is called Grace.
I think she knows I don’t usually
allow myself the luxury of things like this.

The fragrance is heavenly,
smelling like sunshine on a spring morning
layered with angel wings.

I plan to use it again today,
scrub away ghosts of memories
that refuse to allow me peace.

Perhaps it’s the uncertainty in today’s climate
that I don’t yet know how to redirect my thoughts
from the things I fear.

Today, more than most days,
I need a little Grace.
It is a gift after all.