Toddler
Each
morning I say the Prayers –
I have
for years – words well worn,
rolling
off my tongue slightly sweet – like prasad.
I begin
earnestly but, soon my mind
drifts
away like a lost kite; like a boy
gazing
from his classroom window
or a
toddler nodding off in the church pew.
Would
anyone fault that schoolboy
for
preferring the day’s green pleasures?
Or the
child wandering off to dreamland
under a
preacher’s sonorous tones?
I go
easy on myself, saying the words You left,
trying
to keep awake, trying to stay focused
on the
blackboard at the head of the class.
O child
of God, it’s arrogant to consider yourself more
than a
toddler playing at the Master’s feet.
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