My Dirty Laundry

Hanging in the yard
For all to see
My dirty laundry
Staring back at me
My worn out socks
Traveled many roads
To get them clean
Took several loads
My shirts and pants
And underwear
No wonder
All the people stare
They hang there
Waving in the sun
Some from my past
Some just begun
But everyone who passes by
Sees all the dirt
And I know why
It's hanging there
I see it too
I'm hanging up
The things I do

What's wrong with this?
Well can't you see?
Jesus Christ
Has forgiven me
He's emptied out
My saggy socks
The grass, the dirt
And all the rocks
He's shaken
All the shirts I wore
Can't grab me by the collar
No more
My pants once walked
A wayward street
But now my legs
Have righteous feet
He's cleansed me
Down to my underwear
What was underneath
Just isn't there

So what do you say?
And what do you think?
My dirty laundry
Doesn't smell or stink
No longer stained
By dirt and mud
My laundry's washed
In Jesus' blood
I'm taking each garment
Off the line
Whatever you see
Is no longer mine
My dirty laundry
That swung in the breeze
Got washed away
When I fell to my knees!

Book by Bryan Miles

If you like this poem, you may enjoy reading more work by this artist:

buy