Prayer

A poem that prays softly

My father’s cracked feet
Aai’s blood pressure machine
Tai’s face in a conflict

My partner’s inner child
My plants when I’m busy
My friend Charul’s hard-won freedom
My other friends, their fake smiles
that hide the pressure on their spines

Natasha’s little finger
Naseem’s laughter
NO — a tiny bird that bites

My intestines
My knees
My thirst

The nib of my favourite fountain pen
Bulbuls eating fruit in my balcony
The narrowness of my childhood home
The soap bubbles of memory
Pastries falling asleep in their box on the way home

May I be slow enough to love delicate things.

---

What are the delicate things you need to love?

---

Dear reader,

I am slowly gathering courage to share more poems on Substack. This one emerged from a prompt by

Ila Reddy

in the

Ochre Sky Stories

Writing Circle. When someone who lives by Mary Oliver's instructions offers a prompt, you slow down and pay attention.

I've been writing what I call "poems that pray softly" since last year. In a workshop on the same theme, I realised that many of us don’t believe in God, we believe in language. In art. We create buoyant containers for hope when we're drowning - some use science fiction, others make gouache paintings. For me, poetry volunteers itself, saying "me, me!"

Wishing you your form of prayer and creative resilience.

Love,

Raju

---

Discover the transformative power of personal writing with Natasha Badhwar and Raju Tai at Ochre Sky Stories Memoir Workshop.