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.
