My gods have dirt on their hands,
backs bent from years of bearing weight no one should have to carry.
Their hands shake, but still, they reach, steady as stone, offering what they have left.
They don’t need wings to rise.
They’ve walked this earth bare, felt each crack beneath their feet,
know every corner, every bend, and they keep walking, keep giving,
one last bite of bread, one last kind word when none remain.
My gods fail, oh, how they fail,
spectacularly,
repeatedly,
beautifully, then get up with bloodied knees to try again.
In small gardens, they kneel, hands deep in the earth, pressing tomato seeds into soil that’s seen decades, humming old songs under their breath.
These are my gods, in worn benches, coffee shops, crowded buses and waiting rooms, they sit with quiet light, a soft smile for every stranger who needs one.
In the eyes of those who've seen hell
and still choose to dance to some tune only they can hear,
who've tasted hatred and spat it out, pouring love into cracked cups, these are my gods.
I worship the mud on their feet, the sweat tracing slow lines down their faces, the way their backs carry it all,
yet they laugh, a laughter that’s seen sorrow but chooses joy.
I honour their scars, the dirt they wear like badges, their shoulders steady, holding this world in place.
One more time, they stand, to love, to laugh, to reach out even when it hurts.
I sing to gods who choose kindness over hate, who stand by you without asking in return.
And once more, they rise,
knowing that compassion, forgiveness,
patience,
these aren’t feather-light virtues but weights they bear with iron strength.
When cruelty presses down, when winds of hate blow, my gods stand firm, letting storms pass,
letting hurt wash over without consuming them.
They hold their light, small but fierce, keeping the flame alive.
For they know, as night breaks, that the story left behind won’t be of battles won,
but of choosing to keep loving, keep reaching, even as darkness closes in.
They laugh in the devil’s face,
not out of defiance, but knowing, knowing something stronger than fear, and in that knowing,
They remember who they are.
I sing songs and pray to my gods.