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.