CALL ME BELOVED

Pray like you used to, under your breath, for that
sort of tired that knocks you flat like schoolyard
concussion – pray to someone, maybe the stars
I remember seeing nights before the hazy grays,
pray for the aphasia to fade out slow, like a star,
for every mote of sand filling up your hourglass
pressing around your chest – choking out air like
a hug, pray for the relief of an empty waiting room,
a heavy sigh for words left unsaid, duties shirked –
pray the mantles you flee fall onto better shoulders.
Pray to be left. For release, for abandon, dismissal
from service; it was so heavy. You never asked for
the stillness; the quiet and the surrender at night,
never asked to carry this – pray for patience, for the
needle to skip back into a groove, pray for a louder
voice when you sing in the shower, for a kindness,
praying itself, for the morning that comes after, the
next lamentation – pray for the lamenting; wanting
reminds you that you’re not done with all this, yet