Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer
utters itself. So, a woman will lift
her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.
Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
enters our hearts, that small familiar pain;
then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth
in the distant Latin chanting of a train.
Pray for us now. Grade I piano scales
console the lodger looking out across
a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls
a child’s name as though they named their loss.
Darkness outside. Inside, the radio’s prayer -
Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.
Prayer by Carol Ann Duffy
From Andrew Moody's Facebook wall, a quote from the Puritan Richard Sibbes:
ReplyDeleteA Christian complains he cannot pray. 'Oh, I am troubled with so many distracting thoughts, and never more than now!' But has he put into your heart a desire to pray? Then he will hear the desires of his own Spirit in you ...There is never a holy sigh, never a tear we shed, which is lost. ... Let us not be cruel to ourselves when Christ is thus gracious."
The Bruised Reed.
How many sighs and tears and distractions have plagued my prayers? What beautiful reassurance. Those Puritans know their prayer.
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