By Paul Roberts
as I lay me down now
my sleep
is distant
for the thoughts I keep
hidden forcefully at bay
with tasks and turmoil of the day
that hide themselves in the light of the sun, make
a dark visitation on this day not done
so my prayer rises up, and like the pharisee standing
next to the sinner, loud, demanding,
I insist to have the Judge’s ear,
(with dramatic pause and reptilian tear?)
I will change the future
that I fear
with words and wisdom as a seer
as a prophet bold proclaiming
by my petitions am I taming
He Who Is, by my will shaming…
such thoughts may drown and take me under…
help me return with childlike wonder
to when whispered prayers became heaven’s thunder
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Another invitation to celebrate National Poetry Month by writing and sharing an ode of your own.
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