1 min read

on Sundays

I worship the brown girl

who sits next to me on the subway,

waiting patiently

her eyes scanning the painted metal walls

and broken windows

for her hope

to be seen. To be seen, just for a minute.

I miss my stop

because of her,

because I want to be reminded

for five more minutes

that the world

is hers too.

I want to give her that,

and we don't need churches

for those prayers.

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