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.