...that prayer i was to say

my kneeling before The Space

empty of words, feelings, thoughts

hollow of meaning and meaningfulness

i was to be at prayer

full of hope that The Ear would open

to my confession of sin

my sin, full-nest resting in my breast

birthing wrongs that  fly

both day and night

i was to pray

that The Transformer would cast a miracle

and change my eggs

into a fighting gift of aliveness toward Him

that i would move beyond locked-in-hereness

that some new sum of me might mature

that some one more Christian than my wobbly self

might emerge from the woods

and i am here present

kneeling before the Father

at the soft bed of my weakness

and the cold heart of my flesh

that plugged ears might open

 and the doors of me fling wide

i pray for conversion

like Paul in his desert

for hard scales to tear from my eyes

my devilish way of seeing

my futile way of viewing

i pray and plead

confess and implore

that some new me be born

and Easter rise again