Words I Can Make Out of My Name, a poem

You were not built to carry the weight of this world, said God.
And yet. It is upon you; you feel it heavier each day.

Your prayers have been shouted & whispered, in communion
& all alone. There are four thousand languages in this world,
God said. Don’t you think I can speak every one? Never
be afraid to grieve; to cry; to pound the ground; to bang a drum
on a beach somewhere; to dance before the fire of your own soul.

And don’t be afraid to make your own mark, God said.
On the wall of a cave, on some paper, on a server, in a cloud.

Do you need a map? Some create their own — mandalas
with colored sand, swept away after three days.

There are so many ways to pray, and the most important way
is kindness, said God. You, my beautiful daughter, will begin
and end with a simple breath — and you, my well-loved child,
were not built to carry this weight, the weight of the world.