DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

A Prayer

 

LB:  The difference between a rant and a prayer

         lies only in position and delivery.

 

MS:   Raising yourself to the skies,

          facing either the biggest laugh

          or the only great eye.

 

SH:   Hands up and open in surrender or supplication

         or fisted in the fiercest demand,

         the voice modulated between a thick strangle and

         the soft, humble hangtime of pleading.

 

RM:  You say the same thing;

         You’re looking for an end of the pain,

         looking to strike to world or the unworldly

         with your anger, with your weakness,

         with your absolute and complete inability

         to take this shit anymore.

 

KH:  Personally, I prefer prayer.

         It’s not that I know someone’s up there.

         It’s that I can’t bear to think that there’s not.

 

DK:  Prayer is the knot at the end of the rope

         that keeps us from finally falling.

 

KM:  Prayer is the small tug at the robe of a myth

         that stands over your shoulder

         with its comforting color

         and irritating politics.

 

KD:  Prayer is small and tentative

         and set against a whispering background of hope.

        And so we pray . . .

 

LB: You, rage-cropped father,

 

MS: You, earth-stained mother,

 

SH:  You, flaming spirit,

 

RM: You, laughing jackal,

 

KH: You, rising bird,

DK: You, knowing shadow,

 

KM:  You, inner being.

 

KD:  I won’t kneel,

         That will bring me closer

         To what defeats me now.

 

LB:  I won’t bow

        because I can’t cower

        in the face of a question.

 

MS:  But I can ask

         and hear my plea flood the air

         and take comfort in the fact

         that I still have the strength

         to want.

 

SH:  I am so tired.

        Cliches about weight aside,

        the world has nested on my shoulders

        settling down for a long winter’s nap.

 

RN:  My life follows the coldest road,

         dark and indifferent

         and quite happy to roll on without me.

 

KH:  And sometimes I feel like I’m the only rider,

        and that rests in me so heavily

        I can only sit down and hope for a deep breath.

 

DK:  When I look to the light of the future,

          I see no bright goal,

          only that same road

          that forgets the sound of my steps.

 

KM: You,

         who know the true meaning of the word beyond,

 

KD: You,

         who hold the lives of so many in your strange justice,

 

LB:  You,

         who promise that this life will be justified,

         send some of that folky old narcotic my way,

         can’t ya?

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.