More Praying
The very core
of my being
yearns to pray
I cannot.
Not with words
nor without words.
dried up
shriveled bone
how did I get here?
If I could
I'd pray for
those on the bridge.
those who died
those who lived
those who are lost
for the families
for the friends
for the community.
The images
rip me open
tears form deep
don't let me
start (crying)
I may not stop.
I wake up
4 in the morning
gasping
the images of
collapse
of broken lives
impale my soul
gasping for air
I cry out.
why.
people die
who yearn to live
people live
who
yearn to die
it just is
it just
is.
my soul
yearns to pray.
I cannot.
of my being
yearns to pray
I cannot.
Not with words
nor without words.
dried up
shriveled bone
how did I get here?
If I could
I'd pray for
those on the bridge.
those who died
those who lived
those who are lost
for the families
for the friends
for the community.
The images
rip me open
tears form deep
don't let me
start (crying)
I may not stop.
I wake up
4 in the morning
gasping
the images of
collapse
of broken lives
impale my soul
gasping for air
I cry out.
why.
people die
who yearn to live
people live
who
yearn to die
it just is
it just
is.
my soul
yearns to pray.
I cannot.
Comments
diane, some days are like this....
Sometimes when we cannot pray, it gives someone the opportunity to pray the prayers FOR you. I will be honored to do that for you.
One day you can do the same....
But I would add, you are praying -- beautifully. The desire to pray itself is prayer. This poem is prayer.
Thank you!
lj, thanks for the reminder. I trust that, but it helps to be reminded.