Original EveryPoem Studio house-voice poem.
Choose a genuine response. Counts appear only after several readers agree.
We pick the dark ones carefully, leaving red fruit for another week. Thorns write thin corrections
My father did not pray loudly. He measured twice, returned borrowed tools,
I don't pray the way I was taught—on my knees, hands folded, words memorized like a password to heaven.
God of the unfinished answer, meet us before dawn changes anything. Meet the ones whose grief
I tried to make the Trinity behave like numbers on a classroom board. One plus one plus one.
Before the prayer becomes language, there is breath. Before courage becomes action,
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