Prayer Response

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Ebo Barton

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My religious aunt recalls
A family tragedy
In a car ride
The story spills
Out of her mouth
Like
Communion
Wine

We had just come
From dinner
It felt appropriate
To drink
Her every word
Her expensive
Name-brand purse
Her pulpit

She ends her sermon
By saying

"It shows you the power of the hand of God"

My family members humbly moved
Out of a minivan bench
My uncle nods from the front seat
Even Santo Nino bobbles
In approval from the dashboard
The rear-view rosary
Swaying
Like
A desperation
Prayer

My universe
Stone and
Sage burning
Queer moody self
Wants to sigh
Holy Breath

But I realized
You can't tell
Anyone how to worship

My aunt, an unrecognized
God herself
Speaks as if Jesus
Is her own son
Perpetually surviving
And mourning the death
Of actual Jesus
And her actual son
This fiery hell of a family of ours

How can she not see
God in herself?
How is it that she
Is not the church focal point?
Why do our knees
Not buckle in prayer
As she enters the room?
As if we don't call her first
Before praying to whatever is up there?

Maybe we don't want to give the ending away
Maybe this is what the answer has been all along

Maybe it is also why I've never seen myself holy

Why I've ripped my body into pieces
And offered it up as a sacrifice
To my relationships
Why I've told lovers
I'm not even worth praying for
Let alone pray to

I may have never flooded the earth
Or banished curious fruit pickers from my garden

But I have made an
Overdrawn bank account pay
For wine to heal myself

I've swam in the
Deepest end
Drowned
Died
And resurrected
And no one even noticed at work
On Monday

And isn't that god-like?

I have untangled myself
From my stepbrother's grip
Ran 1500 miles north
Nearly lost myself in
The Pacific Ocean

And still came out with some really fly shoes
My God!

There is no book about me
No commandments I list to get to my arms
No cross to carry
No stained-glass summaries

Of the tragedies of my life
Dear God
And by God, I mean
You
I mean Tita Tessie
I mean Safeway cashier
I mean nightlife dancer
I mean single mother
I mean person at the bus stop
I mean underpaid
Underappreciated
Exploited
Aggressive
Youth
YOU
In any sense
I mean ME

Dear ME

Look how far you've come
In creation
The power of
Your hand
Your breath

Is the prayer
And
The response

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