praise poem

By Anya Quesnel

praise the patience of co-poets piloting through this falling sky of deadlines and banklines and grief
praise the space they hold when
when the only poem i have to oer is to notice a small crack in the sidewalk and a ower growing out


praise every hand casting art into an ocean of question marks, being unafraid to reel in more questions

praise to mentors who agree that some waters are unnavigable, some pain unmendable,
who do not oer balm but a place to sit and cry


bless big sibling love
bless being born by the same strained love that we might talk about it and make dierent mistakes

bless the love that blues me
bless the love that is holding a door, sharing a song


praise to the biggest small blessings
how we make alters out of each other and give ourselves god and breakfast

bless the rugs we make into dance clubs
and the books we see ourselves in


somehow, praise the windstorm
that lay down the blue spruce whose roots aren’t supposed to root here

like so many of us aren’t supposed to root here
yet, praise this prairie cut up by highway and hotel
praise the spirits concrete can’t kill


and yes, bless the squirrels

because they make z smile

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