Teach Me

childs-first-prayer

Forgive me when my dangling participles,
unfocused thoughts, and split infinitives
induce in me self-consciousness that cripples
the will to seek your company.  It gives
me comfort, peace and pleasure just to know
you’ll wait for me, or meet me where I am or
you’ll even carry me when I can’t go
another feeble step alone.  I stammer
and sputter, clear my throat, and awkwardly
aspire to eloquence; my speech unable
to hold a candle.  Still, you’ve offered me
an all-abiding welcome at your table.

You wrote my heart; you know the words I’d say.
In silence, Father, teach me how to pray.

———

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2003 Mary Boren
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