Today I will praise. I will praise the sun For showering its light On this darkened vessel. I will praise its shine. Praise the way it wraps My skin in ultraviolet ultimatums Demanding to be seen. I will lift my hands in adoration Of how something so bright Could be so heavy. I will praise the ground That did not make feast of these bones. Praise the casket That did not become a shelter for flesh. Praise the bullets That called in sick to work. Praise the trigger That went on vacation. Praise the chalk That did not outline a body today. Praise the body For still being a body And not a headstone. Praise the body, For being a body and not a police report Praise the body For being a body and not a memory No one wants to forget. Praise the memories. Praise the laughs and smiles You thought had been evicted from your jawline Praise the eyes For seeing and still believing. For being blinded from faith But never losing their vision Praise the visions. Praise the prophets Who don’t profit off of those visions. Praise the heart For housing this living room of emotions Praise the trophy that is my name Praise the gift that is my name. Praise the name that is my name Which no one can plagiarize or gentrify Praise the praise. How the throat sounds like a choir. The harmony in your tongue lifts Into a song of adoration. Praise yourself For being able to praise. For waking up, When you had every reason not to. | 
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