Washed

Parlous was the pour

Merciless in its fall

Raindrops filled in my core

Silencing voices of my call,

It was the worst storm of all.

Water cascaded down my breath 

The smell of steel in air

Deluge borne weapons of death

But I stood with my hands bare,

The water washed away despair.

When the after-sky haze cleared

And the drought was unseen

I found the ink marks smeared,

The rain cleansed off my skin

I am washed clean.

*English quintain is a five line stanza with the rhyme scheme ABABB.