As a child I watched my father speak to God, morning and night.
Before his bed, he kneeled and pointed his head at the world.
Half-way, he fell asleep with an open mouth to take back his words.
And it was when I imagined his prayers started praying him.
I tried speaking to God, but my body kept growing into silts.
When I slept I didn’t think the world slept with me. I wondered if
God my father spoke to saw me through his prayers. For
Those nights I sat by my cousin’s grave and held her hands
And watched the sky twinkle my body as song written from the back.