Everyday the world wakes us
then we summon our waters
all the dampness we can afford
We give into the battles that licks into our core
We look at the mirror
For imperfections
For dents
For the echoes of yesterday
For the blasting past
But we can start the machine of hope
We can keep it running
We can write a sermon on grace
Where the grasses are green and wet
Where the heroes have many names
Spread my prayers like jam across your palms
Smear it on your head and whisper peace
Lay it on your chest and say mercy
Say selah to the prayers of old
Say amen to the crispy promises of the scriptures
we should not believe otherwise
if he promised peace
he will give it.
