A Different Prayer
Today my prayer is different, O Lord;
unlike what’s gone before:
is is first praise, then supplication …
I’m not sure which way to turn.
How do we speak, how do we pray,
when grief and relief
like branches of a berry vine;
when we give thanks
for what has been
and mourn what can never be.
You, O Lord,
and greatly to be praised
for maple trees and meadowlarks,
for life and light and laughter,
for hope and peace of mind.
But right now, Holy One
I just don’t know what’s right.
Should I lift my voice in joyful song,
or sob until I can cry no more?
I’ve done my fair share of crying;
perhaps the tears have all been wept,
like a well that has gone dry.
I did my duty as I understood it
without complaint — well, not much;
and always sought Your saving grace.
But days went by, my Lord my God,
when strength ebbed
and joys were hard to find.
Forgive me, Lord, for my hard heart
that holds myself accountable
for every lack and imperfection.
You alone are perfect, Beloved of my Soul,
and I, Your child, am still learning
how to live and how to love,
and how to let things go;
to do as much as I can do,
and give the rest to You.
Let this be a day of new beginnings;
lead my spirit, Lord, and bless my heart,
teach me how to sing a new song to You.
dedicated to Carole and Bob
upon the passing of their mom, Pauline,
after a long battle with Alzheimer’s
© August 2009
Deborah Beach Giordano