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This Is What Justice Looks Like

The Way I Pray

By: Eden R.

This is the way I pray:
with hips stirring eternity
and tongue untied,
I supplicate.
Teasing my truths
out from their hiding place
behind
doubt and dismay.
I dance
in shoes that punctuate my legs.
Stacatto
compliments to those parts of me
that never complain about
carrying
the worlds’ weight.

This is the way I pray.
Carried by bare feet I
dance myself into floors until
my dna becomes one with
the wood, the dust, the linoleum, the concrete.
I kneel at altars of sound and
thrive on music instead of sleep
until my surrender feels complete, until
I remember my joy.
My joy lives in those most courageous parts of me,
in the degree my spirit wills to care,
in the tender strength
of my right bicep where
ink permanently declares
“I choose love”.

This is the way I pray.
In the core of my body I
am on a lifelong date with Trust,
everyday dancing with her.
I’m shimmying her periphery,
everyday. I’m twerking with
my feisty ladyfriend so
she knows I’m at her party.
Even so, it is surprising,
the seemingly endless play of
saucy motion and nuances
of raw emotion that
accompany
this human destiny.
I do my best to bask in
the cleansing effect of
life’s beautiful messes.

This is the way I pray:
God grant me the serenity to
bask in the cleansing effect of
life’s beautiful messes.
Goddess grant me the serenity to not accept
the mediamind,
to change the channel, to my own intuitive sensitivity,
and the wisdom to know the difference, between
the guides of my feelings and the distractions of stories.

And thus my prayers
elucidate
my choice to live in faith.
And thus my words
elucidate
my choice to live in faith.
And thus my dance
elucidates
My choice to live in faith.
This is the way I pray.

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