PRAYER

Lord,

help me, the world is pushing in—I am abandoned in a desert no love no water in a desert no love —in a desert no illusions no deliverance—I know love needs illusion, all I want is love the simulation of love—there is truly nothing, there are only hounds, hyenas, it’s tiring, I'm tired, what happened

Lord?

What happened? you…without hesitation, let me walk into this desert to cave the cavity where my heart was—the cavity my heart a sunken city—a cavity the trace of my soul marked all I can ask is where did the spirit go? where did the spirit go—where—the spirit I thought I could follow, always—where did it go—the spirit that promised each step now baby birds legs shaky tired—nothing to lean on…it's hard

Lord,

at least you had someone to hold you—brush your cheek to look down on you—and hold you—and tell you it’s fine.

Lord,

I have nothing, solitary confinement—true love lost—true love gone—where can we go

Lord,

where can I go— where is there to go—I can only tunnel—deeper and deeper—a crucible—nothing for me to hold on to—nothing but descent—a hole—

Lord,

please, grace—a hair of grace—deliver me from this abomination of Self, what is one to do

Lord

but reach out—touch the God at the bottom? REACH out to the

LORD

that walks in the desert–walks there with certainty, with hardness, a core that tells me—there may be nothing—maybe all these years I was wrong—

Lord,

what's left after love lost is a wasteland–no future after love—no sparks, hardly a whisper…

When Sophia looked at the marble pieta, she SAW the vein running down the arm of our cold marble

Lord

...pulsed. Sophia closed her eyes, shook her head in disbelief, tried to shake out the strange vibration. Sophia opened her eyes, the marble vein pulsed; Sophia clasped her hands, shook them, the marble vein pulsed, a pieta should be frozen in its suffering, not a whirlpool, not a river...a marble

Lord

should by all means be sedentary. Sophia's bleeding heart was confused in the hurricane of the image. She refused to submit to the mystery emanating from that writhing vein. A jungle of the heart was thrusted upon her...the vein pulsed and Sophia, bless her heart, wept. It's hard not to weep when the heart you never knew or had forgotten about or the heart you didn't think you had, or the forgotten heart sitting there all along, camouflaged in suffering, dissolved by tiny lacerations moment after moment, annihilated by cut after cut, betrayal after betrayal...starts to beat again? Sophia choked a little bit, turned away from the

Lord...

but Sophia, boldly, climbed, boldly, crawled to reach the pieta where the Fallen Christ was humming, the Christ at critical mass. Sophia kissed the stone cold marble lips of the

Lord

to express her prayer:
to start over.

by searingclarity