My prayers have always been true. I’ve
Asked God for just those desires
Which, I find, he asks me to cultivate.
Begged relief for my suffering friends,
Neighbors whose struggles I do not know;
Enemies whose civilities I do not acknowledge.
Heaven to rise up in small movements of
Liberation as a stream which will not be
Damned.
Bread for the hungry. A baker to prepare it.
A kitchen for it to rise. A table at which
They can rest.
Often, for forgiveness of the wrongs
I do, the rights I do not.
Open eyes to see a more complex story of
My own missteps.
Less often, for a silent tongue; to let
Go my just retort when wronged. To
Extend a welcome hand of fraternity.
I’ve prayed in apophatic wonder, charismatic
Expectation, impatient silences, in canons recited
Again and again.
“Teach us to pray,” we asked,
And so he teaches us:
“Which among you know to give
Good gifts?”
(April 13, 2021)
