December

It is quiet and it is dark.

And in this dark quietness I pray.  Because that is what I know to do.

Because I know I am heard.

I wait, wait for the answer.

It comes, as it almost always does.

Exactly what I asked for, only a little different than I expected.

Burning slowly I wait.

Breathing in the power of a request.

It hangs here, in the shadows.  And when I hear it, I reach out and hold on.

-

I know what is required of me.

I know what I have been asked to do.

I also know this heart, setting this rhythm here, is capable of more.

The prayer I pray and the answer I get both confirm.

Door shuts, paper slides.

And in the darkness, I pray a prayer that rises with the smoke.

One of those prayers only safe to pray in the quiet darkness of your own space.

Where no one else can hear.

The answer to the first will lead to the answer to the second.

I pile on the blankets, ward off the cold.

And ask for the return of something I'd scorned.

Prayer and truth linger.

In the silence, I hear so much.