here i am,
between the sheets,
above the bed,
beneath the ceiling,
beside the bookcase.
i locate myself amidst
such gifts, or rather,
they locate me.

here is a bed.
i have said, yes,
a cold bed, in which
i lie alone.
but at least there is a bed.

here are sheets.
i have said, yes,
sheets i bought
to impress another.
but at least there are sheets.

here is a ceiling.
i have said, yes,
though i cannot
see the stars.
but at least there is a ceiling.

here is a bookcase.
i have said yes,
the shelves are old
and all too deep.
but at least there is a bookcase,
at least there are books.

when i say what others have said
about the beneficence
of the universe
or about spiritual explanations
for serendipity,
it only ever
comes out as accusation.

i do not know
how else to speak of this,
the miracle of well-being,
when so much else falls apart.


3 thoughts on “prayer

  1. It has been said life is not about getting what you want but rather wanting what you get. I’m not sure if that is always true, but your last stanza pretty much sums up my thoughts on the subject as well. Sorry I haven’t been through in a while, life caught me with my pants down and I am just getting back to checking up on all the poetry I have missed. Hope all is well,


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