The praying is the prayer – not pleadings nor praise.
The heart’s articulacy is the prayer;
kneeling ... and the folding of hands.
Our nakedness and need is the prayer –
from that first disintegrating morning,
ages past, ‘til this evening’s calm, gathering dusk,
our nakedness and need is the prayer ...
but, o pilgrims, only a handful ...
the truest heroes of our farthest-fetched tales
ever dare quiet their souls
long enough to listen for God’s reply –
to risk hearing the answer
roll across God’s vast dominion
or, well up, unsheltered, in the hollows of the heart;
to risk hearing not the Word nor Silence,
but a terrifying, unequivocal Absence.
O child of God, risk all for the courage
to learn the truth of God’s love.