In Absentia

Where do I go?
If here you are not,
In the potter's pot,
The Ragi dough,
Where do I go?

Where do I rinse?
My blood is faulty,
My tears too salty,
My soul smells of sin,
Where do I rinse?

Whom do I love?
My heart is chained,
And arms merely feign,
White flights of a dove.
Whom do I love?