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Home » Poetry » Issue 2 » Prayer [No. 12]

Prayer [No. 12]

Let me be still now, Father
I cannot keep wading in this sunlight
breaking me into desire.
What have I done except find ways
to keep running from faith? Even
a stubborn pet finds its way back home each night,
tucking into the grass and counting each star,
solitary and collected.
Let me now be still and see what others have seen;
glory, light, blood washing away that
which I collapse into–sin.
I am always finding myself in places
I’ve been lost in before.
        I cannot keep wading
into house after house and looking through
empty rooms of hard wood and broken bulbs. Father,
are you listening?
I imagine my prayers as sharp sparks
lighting up the night before they go out
like blown out candles.
        Let me be still now, Father.
Let me collapse this chaotic earthly tent
until your heaven opens up, until the
night becomes a canvas onto which
I paste myself; a symbol of late glory.
I yearn for silver spires and angels and heavenly song.
I yearn for the collapse of this yearning body.
Let me be still now, Father,