Wednesday, April 15, 2020

Trying to Pray

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay.

A poem on a hard day.

Like a Dream, But Holy

She closed her eyes in prayer
and found behind those eyelids
no clear image 
all was warped greyish-brown
as if subliminal sludge were
dripping across her mind’s eye
muddying her God-eye
her ethereal focus all blurred and distorted

She parted her lips to petition
and felt a greedy quicksand
seize her penitent tongue
dragging the words away to
the abyss
those determined whispers unable to
fly their verses to the heavens

Her pleading became beyond --
beyond sensory and
past human effort --
into groanings of Spirit-depth
like a dream uncontrollable but holy 
and this blind, mute seeker --
she tries to trust that the Helper will be
sufficient for these weak days
filled with murky, music-less invocations

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