a house of prayer
kneeling for the music for the adoration at the crib,
in the hazy nave of the cathedral tonight,
I cannot help but think:
If I pray in as many holy places as I can find on this earth,
in as many ways and in as many languages,
will our wills ever align—mine and God’s—
and will you ever wake in the middle of the night
feeling the force of my praying for you at that distinct moment?
Will you know what it means, will the signs
and all the symbols line up with the time,
and will I be able to start saying a new prayer?
