Thursday, April 9, 2026

April 9: A Note from the Lenten Laundry

 


You’ve turned me into a prayer, 

but I think it's cheating to shave off 

time in a cathedral for minutes washing. 


It's an act. Admit it. 

Admit that today, right now, 

you’d rather be hanging warm jeans 


than kneeling or genuflecting crisply 

besides some splintering pew. 

Square it for yourself now. 


There are flaws in how you were taught 

that you need to stack prayers with t-shirts. 

A prayer isn't a sundress.


Prayers nestle into the quietest 

most ignored parts of you until 

they're so ready they’re incorrigible. 


Prayers float up from the gut 

to the heart; words oxygenating

emerge in the tune of a songbird.


This is my prayer for you: stop hampering 

yourself with the mundane and half empty. 

Stop balling up the sacred like its socks.


Written beside “Chore” by Angela Narciso Torres

No comments:

Post a Comment

April 30: At Ithaca Falls

  A photo that wasn’t supposed  to be taken, a snapshot off kilter  demands self compassion,  the crepey neck lines   the broadness of a fac...