Prayer is like a seamless robe,
there are no stitches in between our praise and pleas,
our adoration, anger, thanks and longing.
Patterns, threads, colours, merge, pain and joy embrace,
barrenness, fertility grow as one, as
tears, ebb and flow as gentle and as raucous as the ocean,
still and raging,
music, words, silence, all entwine becoming as the Trinity,
And the robe once silky on your skin, is coarse again.
Then gone and all that's left is nakedness
that knows it can't be covered
But is not ashamed.
Daily Contemplative Prayer.
Sail across your
sea. Let your sails flap and dance in the music of the quiet breeze. Let the gulls circle mournfully above, crying out soul to soul. Let the waves lap against your sides, caressing as you divide the waters, plunging and surfacing. Surfacing and plunging like
a coal black cormorant, fishing. Let the distant shores draw you on and those left behind release you with no regrets. Wave as I watch you go and smile your smile. And I will wait until you slip silently back into the port of this flesh and blood ,that cannot
contain you, only harbour fleetingly, until your cargo is unloaded and you must sail again for new treasures through storm and calm. In sun, in wind and rain.
The last to leave
I close the door, dim lights, draw blinds and clear away the clutter of an evening do. Stack glasses by the sink, put dishes in the washer with the knives and forks and spoons. Replace the magazines
and turn and look as the last lingering guest, tucks her feet up on the sofa,
switch the music off and hope she'll get the hint But no.
She has more to say. Wants
more to drink Has more time to kill.
No home to rush to.
So stays on oblivious to my mounting frustration. Deaf to my silent screams of Go Go Go.
Only I'm the lingerer. I'm the last to leave. The one who has sabotaged my prayer time Yet again.
Prayer is like.....
in a cafe, waiting to order menu read, selections made but not a waitress in sight. Fidgeting, reading and re-reading the choices. Tired of waiting, ready to complain , ready to leave. When suddenly, she's there at the table all smiles armed with a pen and
a pad and a pot of coffee. “Welcome, what can I get you?” she says as she fills up your cup.
And you notice the sign: 'Please place your order at the counter'
And gingerly say: “Nice coffee!”