the people raise their hands to the sky hoping the praise they have given will come back towards them, for they have prayed their sins away and believe they deserve to be washed clean!
the soap sticks and can never slip off without water, my dear.
so god, send us rain!
we are left in drought. we sit with salty tears staining our cheeks, but it's not enough to set us free from the guilt we create.
so is life!
