Congregation
we congregate
at 3am
huddled, not with hands together,
(no one prays out loud)
in silent supplication to whatever
can remove us from this hour
we do not have our hands together
prayers are whispered inwardly
desperation tethered to the tiny tips of light
as they hurtle down from high above
this no smoking arena
we do not pray out loud
this ensemble of the baggy-eyed and tissue-tearing few
staring urgently at little bits of light
between our fingers
as we promise
to be grateful
in mundanity;
offer up today in trade
for breath upon the morning
we congregate
at 3am
frozen in a semi-circled episode of hope
and fear betrayal of a one-time-only faith
Laura Taylor
Mon 4th Sep 2017 13:53
Many thanks Ray. As for willing stuff to happen, I have one really quite spooky experience of that, that I will tell you about at some point.