Monday Prayer

Monday prayer is louder than any other day for me. Prayer, everyday, is the goal. Some days prayer is required more than others. Other days, only prayer got me through the hour/day/moment. Prayer on Sundays still is the most potent, direct line to God, as passed down by my grandmothers. But in my own adult life, prayer on Monday has taken a life of its own.

The Yoruba believe that the way Monday start off, is an indicator for how the rest of the week plays out. Mondays are important for business and wealth and has a no nonsense energy about it. You should not ask a Yoruba to pay back a debt on a Monday, and you are liable to get the best bargains ever, in the market, on Monday. But you’d better mine your tongue and attitude towards business and money on Mondays when you are around the Yorubas, for Monday is named Ojo Aje for a reason. They are a very superstitious and clairvoyant people, the Yoruba, very much like the indigenes of New Orleans, but that’s another story.

Perhaps it’s because of my love of the stories of Orisa Aje and how Mondays are connected to such a powerful force. Perhaps it’s due to my westernized upbringing and the instilled importance of starting the week off ‘right’. Either way, I have noticed that no other day of the week takes on a prayer life of its own, like Mondays.

I cannot leave the house without greeting Olodumare and the Heavenly Host, as I have come to know them through Yoruba traditional spirituality, on a Monday. Something about Mondays will have me in the dark of morning’s birth, pouring sustenance and calling unto the universe to hear, see, and respond. To know and connect. To stand bare feet on the earth, in dew wet morning grass, and be seen by the Elders of Night and the Watchers of Day, rattling iron and spraying gin for liberation, elevation, and manifestation. Demon-slaying with perfectly pedicured feet and Walmart readers. For my babies and unborn generations I am more than Wakanda….I am my foremothers returned with a taste for blood that only snail water seems to satisfy.

In Monday prayer rituals, birds fly from tree to tree, lifting the corners of the veil in their beak so that the unseen can be seen; and whispers from Guided Ones bid we take sarawepepe or dandelion and summon the benevolent gawds to walk with us.

After we appease all that is righteously funfun

…we turn to that glorious spirit

of iron and war,

of love and balance

of evolution and prosperity

with blood clot pains and tender spots

smeared cloth,

brown liquor and granddaddy’s cigar

to ask for blessings

generational blessings

and the total annihilation of enemies of progress.

Seared,

or scurred

is alright with us!

 

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