For all the times you stepped in and out of me looking for hope,
For all the times you thought sitting in that corner would help you cope,
Because the same places you escaped to invade me,
Are the different places you went to,

Hoping you’ll escape me.
Because all the quiet places smelled like battles of death,
Like a damned angel, you’re so out of breath,
An angel has always carried light, but never horns.
Smells of Jasmine, blood on its thorns,
Because all the loud places felt like home.
Sanctum of fears and tears,

Like a heretic cathedral in Rome.
Flood me with your waters, faith shall they bring to me,
Flood me with your waters, invigoration to flames they can only bring to me.
Burn, burn, burn,

Like a dissenter who seeks repentance,
Repentance for all of those places to accept your wrong.
And because all the places that made you belong, changed over time,
Like every other place, didn’t welcome you until you were strong.
And to all the places you so wanted to love but were occupied,
Because a place shall find you, cherish you, and make you dignified,
Glorified, immortalized.
Break that place and you’ll find yourself inside,
Because that place will empty itself to carry you with all your depth,
Will chant rhythms for your demons to dance in a grump.
You’re either a safe place or a warning,
Even when you’re a fire that’s burning,
Even when you’re an ocean that’s drowning,
Even when you’re a memory that’s fading,
Even if you’re a life that’s ending,
Because you’re either on fire or burning.

Nohaila Laayali, Casablanca