Jan 20 • General discussion
Cleaning With Loyalty
I scrubbed floors
until my knees memorized prayer,
until soap bubbles carried my name
down the drain
like it never belonged to me.
He called it love
when he counted my worth
in lunches packed,
in silence swallowed,
in how well I disappeared
behind his comfort.
I was mother first,
woman last,
human somewhere in between
the mop bucket
and his expectations.
Loyalty, he said,
meant staying dirty
so he could feel clean.
But loyalty to myself
began the day I noticed
how my hands still worked,
how my spine still remembered
how to rise.
I cleaned, yes—
not his mess anymore,
but the lies stuck to my skin,
the brand he tried to burn
into my becoming.
Each sweep was a boundary.
Each rinse, a refusal.
Each breath, a reclaiming.
Now I polish my own name,
hang it where the light can reach it.
I am no one’s property.
I am no one’s silence.
I am clean
not because I served,
but because I left
with my soul intact
and my loyalty
finally
home.
THE CEO THAT REFUSED TO SUMMIT
Jennifer Louise Jackson ❤️
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Cleaning With Loyalty
skool.com/cleaningwloyaltyreclamation-1196
The CEO that refused to summit or stay silenced became a legend not for her feats but for her unwavering voice. When the board demanded she attend.
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