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Praying for those who don’t pray

Praying for those who pray but don’t pray

Praying those who use prayer to curse those who pray

Praying for those who think prayers are listicles for unfurnished desires without devotion

Praying for answered prayers that seem like victory but really bequeath toxicity

Prayers for unanswered prayers that seem like the sting of neglect but actually save a life worth a chance

Prayers for unholiness that holds fragility hostage under the ruse of the Lord’s sloppiness when it’s the humans in multi-complexes that command dire rearrangement of verses

Praying for the strong who are weak and the weak who are weaker

Praying for the resurrection of the truth to finally overwhelm the landscape of untruths that boldly blind dizzy visions into tragic submission

Prayers for the young boys that wait for the light to change and run into the arms of flying bullets or steady objects that jab on command

Prayers for the adults who watch from a close distance as the guts of helpless Black youngsters turn vibrant red without the assistance of humanness to prevent flooding

Praying for the potency of hate that hangs in gold-riddled pews

Prayers for the goodness of street urchins that dwell in bedazzled clutter with the birds-eye view to depths of contentment

Praying for those who are happy and unhappy with being happy

Praying for those who are unhappy and unhappy being unhappy

Praying for the return of presence of mind in the shuttle of life and the visionless reflexes that click away heart beats

Prayers for the demise of structure that demands regimen of pain and suffering for the sufferers who look the part

Prayers for comfortable dispositions that are comfortable watching the discomfort of fellow humans

Praying that the assaulted and overwhelmed float to the breathing surface of the light that only shines when eyes are wide open

Praying for the station of the dead and the silence that greets the paragraphs of the accused when accusers circle like wounded vultures where the pain can’t be enough.

Prayers for the world and those who are in it, and the air that hangs with thickness of doom with the far horizon rising with glorious faith of what we’ve already witnessed

Prayers for unbelievers who kick away the bad habits of prophets and lose the personal choir in the bloated diagram that is bursting to curate the choruses that can make souls sing.

This is my solemn prayer, and I pray that I won’t stop praying, even when distractions from the weird sensation of concentration threatens to erupt the praying that is done in places where most wouldn’t pray.

If I’m staring too long in the distance, it’s not the absence of self.

It’s prayer.

Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say!

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