Perhaps: A Prayer



Perhaps: A Prayer

If I speak at just the right time
With just the right words
With well-chosen volume, tone, tenor and pitch

There will be an ear to hear the real sorrow in my heart
Of the one’s who bear a real generation after generation hurt

If I pray at just the right time, under the steeple that holds all the people
With well-chosen words
In four-walls, holy and hallowed, sacred and filled with appropriate  thee’s and thou’s

A crack in the hardness will melt a bit
Mercy and grace will find a way through it
Healing will look and find her way in

But what if I do
Much more than I have
Bearing more weight than the things that I’ve said
Imagine each of us
To do and make change
Touch someone, reach someone
With acts of reconciliation, healing and love

Every word
Every prayer

Maybe they will be multiplied over and over again
Rippling and ebbing
Flowing from this shore to that shore
East coast and west coast
Flooded in acts of loving our neighbor
Asking forgiveness
And simply doing the one thing we all can do

Love is a verb
Do justice, love mercy

Make my days matter
Multiply my remaining
Give me a heart for the hurting
And place me on roads inward to work toward
A long season of sacred healing

Take all I have
And use it for good
And amen, again and again



Wishful Thinking

Welcome to Day 16. Thank you for joining me on this journey. To read all posts in this series, click on the page tab marked #write31days at the top of my home page.  Poetry has returned after taking Wednesday off. More prose awaits around the dusty bend.


Wishful Thinking


If I took the reigns for just a day
Took charge and had control, choreographer
Of each hour
Of the night and day
I would give the morning more
Morphing all the hours into
Break of, e
arly, mid
Stopping at noonday

Morning’s sunrise slow and sure
Would have till noon
To spread her blinding sunburst wings
Across the sleepy sky
And I
Would let the shadows slow dance
Silhouetted ghosts at play

I’d give the early morning all she’d need
Let the dew stay
More than just a little while
Linger longer
Unhurried on each blade of emerald
Grass, like glass
Never to evaporate

Tell her that her morning chill
Can have all day
To brush across the faces
Of those who take their time to wake
And breathe their smokey breathes

I’d crown morning
Let her reign
Over every living thing

If I had my way
I’d never have to say
Good bye my dear
Or wave a sad goodbye







She curled up in his lap
Buried her face in her hands
And ran
Imagined world without end amen
The lost were found
All fear removed
Like coring an apple
Making it safe
Fear extricated
The seeds no longer there
To choke or spoil.

She lay down on a bed with Hope
After praying real and loud and hard
Knelling  worn-out knees on a wooden floor
Wrote her modern Psalms,
Asking, no begging
For life void of fear, recalling
Floods of faithfulness
Hearing whispers
Forecasting peace
At last, peace at last.

She looked out at the silver moon
Imagined her torso cloaked in borrowed armor of  brave
Stepping on shadows then into the light
Pondering what to wear
Battles need armor
Just her size
Fit matters, it must be precise
No borrowing armor
Like worry

No ill-fitting suit of another
Bare skin for battle

Choose wise she heard
In the still of the night
To wear bold
And brave
By day
And by night
Look left and look right

All fear’s been
Removed from this place

I love you, I heard you
Go, run your race
Imagine the wings  I’ve
Sewn to your back
Unencumbered, fly fast, fly free
At last
Sweet dreams as
She lay curled up in his lap.


Joining my dear friend Sandra Heska King at Sandra Heska King dot com