I love you/ Thank you/ I forgive you/ Please forgive me
-Ho'oponopono
A prayer has stood up, rolled up its mat
And started walking after a lifetime of
Sitting and begging outside the temple gate
A prayer that held the seed of fulfilment
Under its tongue, faithfully and safely
Like the strands of sibyllic meaning itself
Depended on it being woven to strength
We are Tuesday people but this man,
This man called Thursday whispered
In the grammar of my ululating ancestors
Clearing the path with sanctity and logos
There it walks, the prayer, to meet the horizon
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