Written in response to:

https://godoggocafe.com/2020/05/19/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-may-19-2020/

Don’t.  Don’t tell me to pray.

For years, I have every day.

All that I am I’ve offered as a prayer.

Every breath.  Every bite of food.

Every step.  Counting pennies,

Dollars.  It’s all the same.

I’ve whispered, I’ve mumbled,

I’ve chanted, I’ve silently said

All my prayers for you, for myself,

For my dog, for my daughter,

For my grandchildren yet unborn,

For the world that couldn’t give a damn. 

Yes, I’ve fucking prayed for us all.

I’ve prayed while driving

With each rotation of the tires.

I’ve prayed oceans of prayers.

Prayed from here to there

In lines of crispy breadcrumb trails

Eaten by the birds for whom,

Yes, I’ve prayed too.

So, what more am I to do?

I’ve prayed in churches, in houses,

In an apartment, along the nature paths,

On walks, on runs. I’ve prayed.

I prayed in the sun, the rain,

I screamed at God during a thunderstorm,

When thunder drowned my screams

And lightning did threaten

To shut my damn mouth.

Yet I prayed. And still even in this,

I do pray with these words

Though they’ve earned no answer

Yet, so don’t entreat me to pray

This damn pandemic away.

I still do pray in every single way,

So just—don’t.