Thursday, April 16, 2015

Prayer (a poem)


A gentle rain, a nursing baby fed,
A gift acknowledged with a skyward smile,
A glimpse of hands that grant my daily bread,
A place to sip some tea and rest awhile.

Fearful prayer, an upward reach for strength,
I squeeze the hand that bleeds to reach for me;
I flail inside the depth and height and length,
Of flooding mercy pouring from that tree.

Prayer, a skyward glare, a slap across His face,
A sinful heart subject to burning light,
A heart exposed to scalpel and to grace,
A shield to fight off terrors of the night.

Prayer, a smoking gun, an angry question: why?
Cross my arms, no, cross my heart and hope to die,
And afterwards, to live and be at home,
In holiness, in robes received, before His throne.

Inspired by George Herber's Prayer

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