(I think I wrote this poem whilst on a retreat, c. 2014.)

The corridor is perfumed by the smell of cleaning products;
Scented like flowers watered with bleach.
The result is as sterile and lifeless
As a desert.
It evokes in me
A feeling of familiarity;
My mind, too, have I tried to cleanse,
To fill with heavenly odours,
To rid of dirt and grime.
In consequence
It has become
A barren wilderness
Where tumbleweed dances
On an echoing wind.