4/30
Thankful

I learned how to pray in my mothers hands and mouth,
and beside my grandmothers beanstalk bed.
From what looked like whispers to nothing and had no sound.
Private in the way God holds their attention.
Everything on their lips full and in plural.
This is what praise looked like in my house.
A silent energy that carried currents.

When I was little, my mother would pray my hands together for me and busy me with the Lord's Prayer.
She trained me early on to memorize things that could make me whole,
like poetry.
No matter if you're a believer or not,
we've all got a little bit of Jesus in us.

As an adult, I need more answers, thicker notepads and plentiful pens.
I pray on all things I touch in poetry with a whisper, full lips, and in plural.
I use my hands,
I hold others attention,
I make things.
This is what praise looks like in my house.