A short poem about prayer…
Prayer is like staying in a solitary cell
While the door is open.
You face a cold brick wall
With nothing but the mortar shadows to distract you.
Outside, life goes on,
And the open door says: ‘give up, give up’ insistently.
Yet you stay, waiting, waiting, waiting,
On a God who never comes as flesh and blood,
Except perhaps at Holy Mass,
And even then there’s a flatness…
So you place a holy picture on the wall,
And perhaps a candle too.
Now there’s movement in the mortar shadows to distract you.
Outside, footsteps, click, click.
When these are gone, thoughts and memories assail you,
Yet you stay, waiting, waiting, waiting,
And still He never comes,
So you mumble holy words
Until you lose the thread…
Don’t close your eyes
Or you will be transported elsewhere.
So you stay with the cold hard brick.
Waiting, waiting, waiting…