Through the lens of my religion,
water is a mighty flood.
A cataclysmic end followed by a  blossoming new beginning.
A pure and innocent symbol ?
the washing away of evil and sin.

Through the tampered eyes of my community,
water is a messenger of unfortunate omens,
frizzy hair and squishy shoes.
A beach day ruined and a summer hike squashed.
Oh, those rainy days.

And yet,
through my adolescent gaze,
each drop of water is a salient savior.

Water coddles me when I’m aching,
Flowing down my tainted skin,
erasing paralyzing memories and sorrows.
One by one.
Drop by drop.

Water is the quencher of my deepest thirsts,
both physical and utterly intangible,
out of reach.
It flows in and out of my soul,
like the sustaining breath of life.

Indeed water can be devastating and demonic;
it gives new life as quickly as it can take it away,
but I will never see water as a drowning death,
a terrorizing tsunami,
or a scathing storm.

Through these eyes, water is a mysterious guardian,
lurking in the shadows,
building you up while tearing things down.