Prayer of the Lame


Dear Lord

I hope I can do this right

What I have left

To live, to give, to try

I doubt I understand humility

But being filled with nothing but myself

Is no fun, either

How many times have saints

Asked to be emptied of themselves

So that they might be filled

With sanctity, with piety

To serve

I’m sure I can’t go that far

Too many times I’ve lost myself

In other ways

And fear to come near the edge

Of that again


I don’t want to make divinity of will

And, you know, I don’t love myself so much

But there is something

(your fault)

In genesis

In being made and trying to figure out

The puzzle, after

The pieces that we have

Without the border, without corners

Believing, though, there is some shape

Some definition

Of both kinds, shape and meaning


Dear Lord

Please let me have this day

And promise of another

I might work nothing out

But maybe heart

And mind and body, as is (as are)

Have meaning in existing

The energy in pushing blood

In cracking synapse in the brain

In what is known

And unknown

Done and not done

Sin and virtue

Understood, worked out

Correctly, with discretion

For a change


Dear Lord

Help us, not

Know it all

Or even much

But to find the joy and peace

That might

You know

Indeed, pass all our understanding

And come back to live with us

Prodigal salvation

Broken heart

Faith in fractures

As I am

As we are

Old song, missing notes

Still sings


C L Couch



Photo by Alev Takil on Unsplash