heart pained in every corner of itself,
this soft, tender, piece of myself,
that aches,
that keeps shedding up its self to purify,
to sanctify
the waters,
these lagoons of sweet water,
cleaning me of all that isn’t mine,
of the density of europe,
the land of sins and blood,
of war and hell,
a place so disconnected from truth,
where there is no wild tree in sight,
every park slaughtered,
controlled,
Like they do their people,
Sweet water purging me,
Emptying me of Pain,
I cry at the Waters,
Afternoon and Evening,
Under changing Skies,
different skylines,
with unseen colours and clouds,
Give thanks to the Water,
I pray,
my Quls,
I let the Waters wash me,
I speak with them,
They Speak with Me,
I read my Quls,
Read my Al-Fatihah,
I get scared,
I fear,
I correct,
I surrender,
I give Grace,
I give Grace.
I have swam in the Rain,
Whilst the waters Clouded,
Got Pushed against,
laid Back