Category Archives: Poems

Praying the Right Prayer

“You ask but do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions. Humble yourselves before the Lord and he will exalt you.” ~James 4: 3, 10

I hold the steamer’s heavy base
awkwardly in my left hand
wielding the window attachment
in my right. Steam pours through the cotton pad.

From my tip-toes to a squat
I wrestle the steam-head
onto its squeegee edge and pull
it down the glass.

Again and over again I strive
to rid the surface of drips and droplets,
sweat-beads running down my back
in the afternoon sun.

I stand back from my work and see the filmy smears,
my spirits dampened by the streaks,
spots, and smudges; so I drive away for
different tools

and produce a concoction
to fight and shield against the nasty residue.
My new squeegee wicks away the drops,
the streaks, the smudges, and spots.

Sometimes my prayers don’t work
until I find the right one.

Morning Prayer (Liturgy of the Hours Psalm 63)

O God, you are my God, I watch for you from the dawn.

My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you.
I came to your sanctuary,
as one in a parched and waterless land,
so that I could see your might and your glory.
My lips will praise you, for your mercy is better than life itself.
Thus I will bless you throughout my life,
and raise my hands in prayer to your name;
my soul will be filled as if by rich food,
and my mouth will sing your praises and rejoice.
I will remember you as I lie in bed,
I will think of you in the morning,
for you have been my helper,
and I will take joy in the protection of your wings.
My soul clings to you; your right hand raises me up.

…to love and to be loved…

“…Those little children still unborn have been created for bigger things: to love and to be loved.” ~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

“Nigh-night…La-you…”
says the little one
to the big ones.

He does not
intend to settle
into his crib,

so he tucks
his sisters
and brother into bed

and makes them melt
for all his gooey sweetness.
In the living room

he crawls about
our bodies sprawled
in the chair, on the couch;

he declares, “Nose.”
when he touches
our noses,

“Eyes.” when he pokes
his finger across
our lids.

He reaches past
our book and tablet,
poking, with his pokey

fingers. It is
10:00. 10:30.
10:35. 10:45.

Enough.
When all else fails,
hug and be hugged.

We love
and are loved
by him.