I have learned to appreciate water for it’s omnipotence 

and it’s uncritical love for me. 

The way it lavishes down my brown skin, soaking out the intrinsic villainous scum in my bodily pores,

like my mother used to. 

I forgive America’s factitious form of Capitalism 

with the sweet and therapeutic smell of Dove,

hypnotizing me from the historical injustices and violent acts against women.

I find it beautiful that my water finds Yang with my soap,

in the way that the clouds leave the sky with the sunset. 

I find joy when my water leaps from the shower head, excited to nurture my body with its natural 

purifications,

rolling down my imperfect, beautiful flesh of my definite collar bone,

pierced nipples and lifted chest,

hips of my densely bone structured ancestors,

my womb of creation,

and legs of endurance. 

It is more than what a man could do,

for women only know the emptiness they leave them with.

I wash my body like I love it,

to show women that is all we deserve.