In Memory of Sundays

<a href="https://www.pexels.com/photo/feeding-the-pigeons-6050/">Photo: Kaboompics.com via Pexels.</a><br/><br/>.<br/><br/>after the Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber<a href="https://nadiabolzweber.substack.com/p/sunday-prayers-may-17th-2020">Sunday Prayers, May 17th, 2020.</a><br/><br/>.<br/><br/>I wear my prayers like morning on the skywhere every gesture is an act of God:each whimper a devotion, hymnic cries,I find my feet but shakily, and nodsome life into the muscles that protestthe dawn that comes: I'm comforted in sleepand though it seems that every dream is blestand rising to the world makes me weepnow count me here. In grief and mutteringprofanity--but even that's a prayerwhen all the world's aggrieved and shudderingas it recalls the memories most fair,the mornings spent outside with companyon God's green earth, the blissful and the free. <br/><br/>Get full access to Sonnets &c. at <a href="https://zjppoetry.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast">zjppoetry.substack.com/subscribe</a>