A Shower of Prayer

Prayer peeks
her eyes toward the sun,
head tilts sideways
inhales what is —
No more, no less

She is love
draped with angst.
A myriad of concerns
weaves through her —
a plead
a wish
a hope

Prayer is presence
to what is here, now

She is an infant held
in the bosom of a new mother —
an eye gaze
a reflective pause
a rock to and fro

Prayer is expression
of all that bears like lead

She barrels in as —
a swashbuckling pirate
a shoulder shaking widow
a mud puddle splash

She makes no apology for how she arrives.
She is fully herself —
Take her or leave her.

She is wide strokes of black grief,
slow tear dripping blue.
She is marks of dazzling light,
dabs of mossy damp earth.

Even as I glimpse her, still
Prayer eludes me.
I can’t catch or contain her.
When I speak aloud,
my words make less of her —
for she is rugged glory.

She cannot be captured
with the spoken tongue.

Since she can’t be caught, is she real?
Maybe she is only a theory
or polite gossip to pass the time?

She slides through my grasp and
becomes a torch bearing wayfarer.

This flickering gleam
forms me as I follow her.
As I pray —
I gain more clarity
of what makes my heart sing.
I sense connection with
ancestors, spirit, friends.

As others arrive in my consciousness,
I breathe their name,
paint some dots,
hold them in light and love,
send my smile to them.

I don’t receive a lightning bolt
after communing with Prayer,
but I do sense peace,
an otherness with her guiding me.

By now, I know
Prayer is connected to the Great Beyond.
When she is near,
birds chirp their song in response —
an ode of joy,
a poem of claim,
a dance of tweets and twitters
They seem to echo her call,
“We are here,
we witness you.”


I commit to seek Prayer.
I place my spectacles of wholeness
on my eyes and hunt
for her each day.

I collect as I go and press
the people, the needs, the concerns
into the soft earth
humming a low tune.

In a minute,
each prayer grows wings
and flies toward the moon
released into the dark night.

I trust in the story of grace —
the mythic tale of a
quiet rise of revolutionary love.

I trust in the goodness of God.

and, yes,

I trust in Prayer.

Let us shower the world with our prayers as we walk our days.