I Do Not Pray Like They Do

 

They ask me to pray. But I do not pray like they do.

 

They ask me to suppress my screams for justice and soften my roar for our rights. But my protest is my prayer.

 

They ask me to burn sage and cleanse away rage. But the smoke doesn’t hide the genocide.

 

They ask me to look to the eternal light. But all I can hear is their eternal lies.

 

They ask me to rise above. But all I can see is them looking down.

 

They ask me to seek answers in the wisdom of the ancient ones. But I am asking for accountability from the mouths of the living ones.

 

They ask me to sit with them in circle. But I hear them asking me to join them in denial.

 

They ask me to remember that we are all love. But my love looks wilder than theirs and so they do not welcome it.

 

They ask me to smooth the edges of my anger. But survival shaped me this way and I am not sorry.

 

They ask me to pray. But I do not pray like they do.

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