(x = space)

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Hurry Up, Please, It’s Time

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Time to pray

My God, you are here

Sometimes your presence

Seems so thin

Like vapor

In the morning

Then sometimes a

Numbered weight

Sometimes a fire

That frights

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It’s how we imagine you

Though you are manifest

As you are manifest

Not invisible

Not hiding behind a tree

Awaiting human mischief

For a peak

You are not voyeurish

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As it is, you’ve seen it

Heard it

Touched it all

Our antics are not of interest

Unless we should please you

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That would be

A forest of content

With scenes of love and action

(love in action)

That would delight

In fact

And in fact

Of all the constituents

Of nature

And believers

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Animals might pray

Might live in prayer

We must talk

Must confess

Must ask

Though, yes, we may

Keep it in the mind

Just behind

Or just inside our tongues

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You hear us

Remarkably, some time

And every time,

Which is the miracle

The need

Even the requirement

To pray

For us to mutter something

You to hear

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Sorry

Thanks

Love

Amen

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C L Couch

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(I take the title from T. S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land”)

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Photo by Alex Wing on Unsplash

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