Psalm

We offer up our prayers

As we awake

They keep trouble 

From the door

Like grass

In the wilderness

The letters sway and weep

And yet we do not

Wish to cry

We hold the bread 

On our tongue

Close our eyes

And wait for an answer

It will come she whispers

Always the one to believe 

No longer are our withered bones

Stretched upon the hearth

We no longer lie on the floor

We sit on the chairs

Or sleep in the bed

Our life is not

Beyond reproach 

But our prayers 

Will make it better

We light a candle

Sit on the wooden pews

How many times have

We walked here

So many 

That we no longer need to think

This is our place of worship 

A quiet place 

A cool flush upon our forehead

We feel calm

At peace 

Another hopeful day to come.