Written by: Admin_SheEvo
This voice of mine,
this prayer born of my tongue,
I will never let it fade away.
In celebration, I will stomp through the open fields,
my heart bursting with a joy so deep,
wrapped in the quiet embrace of my faith.
Oh, I will pray and praise,
the ancient thanksgiving prayers and songs
my mother hummed into my soul,
words that held worship in one hand
and comfort in the other.
I will lift them high
until they disappear like smoke.
For if my greatest laughter
can hold within it a river of tears,
then why can’t my deepest sorrow
be stitched through with gratitude?
I will gather my gratitude like precious stones
and string them together,
and though my hands are still rough from healing,
I will steady my breath and let this praise mend
what is broken inside?
I will let every word become a release,
a gentle pull drawing the ache from my veins.
I will offer this as my constant prayer,
for a gentle grace found me when I was lost.
I have been turned inside out by the storm.
I have been weathered and worn.
And this story of my rescue is etched into my bones
in a language only I can truly feel and understand.
And so, I will pray and praise,
not in spite of the chaos, but because of it.
I will pray when my voice is nothing but a whisper,
because my spirit has always been the truer instrument.
I will voice my endless gratitude.
Because I have walked through fire
and made it through the rain, I will praise.
I will send my thanks echoing
from the highest peaks so it may carry far.
Yes, I will keep praying and praising…
until my very being forgets the shape of sound.
I will never stop singing the songs of praise.
By: Mutshidzi
