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Dark sunshine is dripping from the ceiling to the floor

Like curing drops of blood singing in my core

No curtain that is dividing my skin from yours

Only the hijab of death that keeps me away from my Lord

I can’t even feel myself anymore

Life is just a dirty toilet

Without a door

Living outside my soul I am dying to know

Even one of my darkest thoughts

I can’t think any more

Like my ruh’ and my body

Both are crawling in another pool of filth on the sticky floor

You don’t know me

And I don’t blame you

This is just too dark

For the brightest camera to see

Like my skin has already melted with my qabr

It’s ok, I don’t even want you to see

Raging winds howling in my scattered mind

Dry tears stripping down the skin of my heart

Seeing  clear images of paradise and hell at the same time

Shoes and laces of the blackest naar’

Cooking the brains in my forgetful head

Feeding myself with cups of creamy white milk

One dip in the rivers of the amazing rivers of Jannah

Will make us all of this forget.

‘’If I was a flag you could raise me

Tie me up where the wind of immorality has the power

To fly through my soul

But I am not a nation

I am a belief you cannot control.’’

                                                                Khansa

‘‘Being  handcuffed and tied up to the ceiling, with no privacy in any way, women detainees forced to use dirty toilets in front of men, the most intensified mental torturing methods, the secret cells, the keeping away of the media, the experiencing of almost dying several times, the shame, the despair, the crying of the hearts, the nightmares in daylight, the dreams, the hopes..of our beloved imprisoned brothers and sisters.’’

The truth revealed.