Hallelujah for the Discomfort

Prayer is not a language I speak.

My words get tight, jumbled, stilted,

I'm never

too sure who I'm talking to

or if

they're listening.

I get stuck

not knowing how to address

the person to whom I am speaking

-- if it's he, or she, or they --

I know God

is probably that 10-year-old genderqueer kid

who already corrected me once last week

when I used the wrong pronouns, and didn't think to ask first.

I mess up

every prayer I utter

in spite of my best intentions

But I want my heart to be good at blessings.

I want my blood to be made of hallelujahs,

want my cells to form themselves in the shape of active love

till it's the only thing I'm made of.

So even though my bones

tremble when I speak,

may it be only because I took what was broken

and used it to fuel a fire of intensity

and the pieces --

they sometimes rattle when I get going;

there is no place

for shame, disappointment, being small,

this active love is bigger

than my tendency to be

complicit

silent

passive

in the face of injustice, so

here

is the hallelujah.

Here

is the ferocity,

the intensity,

the whole-hearted

being without apology

this active love alliance is

the hallelujah.

So hallelujah.

My love pulls my spine like a rip cord

that parachutes the broken open umbrella of my heart.

My heart prays

on street corners with signs and loud voices

in quiet circles
in conversation

in how do I help
in listening
in standing up

speaking up

showing up

showing up

showing up...

I was not taught pray.

Was not taught to engage this type of love -

I was taught to be quiet.

To look away,

to not speak,

to look for love in all the wrong places -

can't find my own body holy enough

to hold her whole and sacred,

there are so many layers

to stepping in

but  Brave is just what we call

Scared when she's

holding hands.

So let's hold hands.

Hallelujah for the discomfort.

Hallelujah for every time we pull back the covers on our still-sleeping hearts

to feel what we couldn't feel before,

hallelujah for the pain of light entering 

our too-long closed eyes

let's throw open the shades

and bless the uncomfortable

we'll praise the surprise

hear the sadness

the rage

hold the tears

cherish the anger

let's bless this holy voice

turn our anger into movement that breaks

ground on this moment of truth-building.

Let us build ourselves

into promise-beings of active love;

let us break the truth

so when we speak again

our voices shake

and we let them tremble.