Wash

For the sake of Him
I write
I spill
I drill into my brain, to strain the locked thoughts, caged memories, to sift through swift blows and callous shows of pain and desperation


For the sake of Him
I pray
I stay
I fray all my pains into shards of ripened glass, weeping from negligence and piercing my innocence


For the sake of Him
I lift
I drift
I gift my deepest tunnels and gashes to show that your scars from the lashes are not isolated or negated, they are inflated microcosms of wars


For the sake of Him
I am grateful for these waves that made me cave on my stave, that gave me space to remove shame, to break my back and crush my knees, forcing forehead to forgo fleeting feeling of pride, and place it pleasurably on the ground He made us from


There is no sweetness like being broken in front of your Lord. The pain in that moment is worth a thousand years of joy. Deploy that heart, let it stretch to the heavens, and let it come back clean, washed, just like white cloth is washed of its impurities.


"Verily with hardship is ease." [Quran, Surat Ash-Sharh 94, Ayah 6]