Awake in the Apocalypse

Sunny Hill

alive again, at the time of apocalypse

once again, we rebuild

this time, i build a temple

because an apocalypse seems like a good time

to believe

an apocalypse seems like a good time

to build a shrine

im not saying you have to believe in gods

but you should believe that there is more to life

than being hunted

there is more to life than being hunter

through the alexithymia find your hum

your burning beat

your heavy drum

there is a reason to sing

there is a reason to pray

even in times such as these

especially in times like these

this is how we rebuild

see through the fire

and watch the images in the smoke

nothing is lost forever

but only if you keep your eyes open

only if you believe enough

to look

through the chaos

through a series of endings

we find our bodies

still attached

we find our bodies

still yearning so much

to believe

Prayers

Sunny Hill

I always whisper my prayers

as though they are secrets

I weave my whispers in front

of a candle

Hands clasped tight

My mother taught me how to pray

to Christian God

and I taught myself how to turn away

I taught myself how to pray again

after years of being lost

gripping onto the spiritual stories

I could find I have always wanted to believe

but for so long did not know what to believe in

Now I have other deities I can pray to

And I have a collection of candles for them all

though I am still afraid to say their names too loudly

Sunny Hill (they/she/he/xe) is a queer disabled poet from New Jersey. They have been previously published in publications such as Camp Hiawatha, redrosethorns journal, Troublemaker Firestarter, and Cosmic Daffodil Journal. They read tarot cards and post poetry on Instagram @fromsunnyhill.