December 7th Prayer - Bill Dickinson

[Larry Robinson]

December 7th Prayer
 

Like a distressed baby,

crying in an empty room,

I used to pray.

 

Now I just wait expectantly

till clarity comes,

often vexing me greatly

with what it has to say,

as if daring me to stare at the sun.

 
Or, slowly cooking a thick slab of puzzlement,

avoiding all recipes’ tedium,

I keep turning and turning

till I get a well-seared response

to a question that refuses to leave.

 

Sometimes I’m like a clumsy country doctor,

vainly trying to pin down a persistent pain’s true cause,

poking and prodding,

ineptly seeking to know what’s up,

only to find that what’s not up

is what I ought to seek.

 

Amazed that the head on collision of one sperm and one egg,

in the fierce run up to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, 

led to the odd duck who bears my name,

I am lately bemused by the wondrous strangeness of it all,

and regret, ever so slightly, that no one can hear me when,

my solitary heart wishing that it were not so,

I yearn to say, “Thanks for all this blessing.”

 

	- Bill Dickinson
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://lists.sonic.net/pipermail/poetrylovers/attachments/20151207/b340dde4/attachment.html>