Here I am.
Bowed head, hands folded,
young lips lift a silent wish,
my rainbow dream
floats on a cloud to heaven
(pivot/colors shift)
A dinner time blessing,
spoken sign of the cross, this
I learn, a righteous way to live—
in the name of the Father.
(pivot/shapes drift)
Can I ask for anything?
Are lighthearted desires welcome?
Pout puckers when there’s no gain.
Teenage spirit sags.
(pivot/what if)
I know. I’ll do my duty.
A written list of names —
check ‘em once, check ‘em twice,
faithful servant reports, “Here I am, Lord!”
(pivot/story sift)
Grapevine shares a need,
Another’s precious story spilled,
Curiosity peaks, “Is prayer (at times),
a polite form of gossip?”
(pivot/eyes lift)
“Hello? Hello, God?”
Cries my tender heart.
“Do you hear me?
Anyone? Hello?”
(pivot/soul rift)
Weekly visit to church
where are the women?
Our Father, over and over —
mother’s lips muted
(pivot/heart adrift)
•
Here I am.
the Great silence comes—
Strips the knowledge,
shreds the rules,
leaves me still
(pivot/colors brew)
A dam breaks. The spoken words,
the written words wash away.
They aren’t the only Way.
but, what else?
(pivot/shapes stew)
A dancer leaps across stage,
eyes register delight.
Crooked hands thread a needle,
heart notes persistence
(pivot/beauty cue)
A space is made for strangers
to meet and share story,
to pass a thread, to
claim connection
(pivot/story true)
Breathe in, breathe out
the unseen breaks me open.
Vibration of the leaves
sing to my loosened state.
(pivot/eyes grew)
Swash of a paintbrush breezes quiet.
Spirit is within and around me.
My expressive pursuit
IS communion with the Sacred
(pivot/soul clue)
My life, an offering
to the One I hold dear
A prayer, not spoken,
but lived.
(pivot/heart new)
Change of view.
Blessed be.
As I continue on as a spiritual being having a human experience*, my view of prayer, like a kaleidoscope, has slowly shifted, offering me an opportunity to wrestle as well as fresh beauty at different points in my life. Nowadays, I believe that prayer is all around us and all we have to do is tune into it. No words are necessary. Being present to the conversation, the plea, the pain, the beauty is, indeed, the prayer. For me, engaging in creativity and painting helps me to tend to this presence and flow. What view of prayer do you have? How has it shifted over time?
*I’ve gleaned this phrase from Rob Bell
Other poems I’ve written about prayer:
What Is A Prayer?
A Fresh Look at Rote (Rote) Prayer
A Prayer For the World
Kneeling (For Change)