Poetry & Community

prayer doesn't warm a heart

that wants human warmth.

I wash my face thrice, my arms, my mouth... the places that have touched the physical world.

the water runs cold and the house is asleep.

I stand to pray with tears still in my eyes.

There are things I know better

than to ask of God.

But I asked once. I asked twice. I asked thrice. 

My pleas are now silent. 

I press my forehead to the floor. 

forgive me.

For everything, for nothing.

I don't know what for. 

The words come. the words go. 

" آمين" 

Sarah’s poem was inspired by her afternoon with Daljit Nagra at Ware Poets in October 2026.