God, I hold my breath
and pray for George Floyd’s family,
not today’s newsfeed
telling me about the meaning of his death,
until I cannot stand it.
I hold my breath
and pray for George Floyd’s friends.
not my memories of marches,
not details of the trial,
until I see little spots.
I hold my breath
and pray for mamas everywhere,
not how policing has changed
or where it is worse,
not about racism and my part in it,
until I snort, all snotty and ugly.
I hold my breath and pray again
for Black mamas and their children.
Help me tomorrow, God,
to begin breathing
for something that matters. amen.
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Amen, my friend. You offered me an insightful and scathing reminder that it matters what we pray for. It matters that we can breathe, deeply breathe. It matters that Spirit breath helps us make it through shadows of unrest. Thank you.
You are so welcome. I would not normally say that my COPD is a gift, but it is the source of my embodied knowing of this, as your vulnerabilities have opened you to so much.
For breath worth taking, and the courage to take it, not merely to keep my body alive, but to use it for justice! Yes, Lord; this!
Amen.
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Maren, Your poem…I have no words…a faint breath or two aerosoled with sadness. Mark
There are no words. Certainly not for those like me who are white.