A note of song caught in my throat
Sitting softly on my tongue
Lips pressed close
A  hum
Becomes a hymn
My brown eyes, wide and wowed, with the warm flame of Awe
-A breath, the light of the moon washing over me, a breath- chin tilted back, the brown skin of my neck exposed to the night sky
(This is reverence) 

It has no words but demands
A name
Say it soft
    Standing is
An embrace- intention, a creation of feeling- decaying leaves space for healing
         This conversation with god
(and who is god, but the bones of your ancestors, soil as red as blood beneath your feet)
    And it becomes prayer
This soft hum
-a honey bee sings,the tick, tick, ticking click of a death beatle-
   Hymm
-a choir of rushing waves kissing the shore-
   This prayer
Never becomes louder  than a satisfied sigh
   (The release of breath that reminds me that I’m alive)

Zora Satchell is a 24 year old Black queer poet who writes about mental illness, family, and friendship. She believes that poetry creates space to explore and heal from trauma as well as  allow us to imagine new worlds. She is a member of the Estuary Collective and holds a degree in Ethnic Studies from Colorado State University. She also serves as a reader for Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review.When she is not writing she is obsessively consuming pop culture. She loves good dance music and watching movies. You can find her on twitter @thecasualrevolt where she lets her typos run wild.