Does your prayer cross the street?
Or is it like the skin of the serpent
Scratched against a stick or sharp stone?
Does your prayer shred? Has your prayer
Ever heard a man cry, or touched a woman’s fur?
No prayer for the smashed teeth of
Ai Wei Wei held against his will?
I saw your prayer lying feeble in a book
And it could not climb to my lips
Your prayer has been in your pocket too long
To care for the shape of a mouth.
I have been in your prayers a long time
Lying in the hospice, staring at the telephone
I have been in your prayers waiting
For the simple touch of your tongue
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The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.
Nice! I’ve always felt this way myself. Mouthing words in honor of someone is so much less powerful than preparing a bowl of soup when a friend needs it.