I am but a prayer.

Either that or I am me and I am a prayer.

As are you.

With your scrambled egg brain, your backward word reading,

Your daydreaming, wispy self.

My prayers are with you always, when I boil the noodles,

When I fold the clothes, when I draft the email,

When I reach out to the educators.

I am stripped and bare.

I want to recoil and curl up on myself.

There is a choice here, exhaustion can either wreck me or help me to restore myself.

Today, it is hard, excruciating, but I am choosing to restore.

Help me ancestors.