Yet, in this hour,
our means for
survival is our
conversation with God.
I find myself pressing
through, toward
the next thing,
seemingly unthinking.
But if I dig a bit
below the surface
of my mind,
I see many thoughts
that I am not bringing
to God. What will
happen next week?
How will my child
handle the disappointment
of another canceled activity?
Such is my conversation
with the Almighty One.
I believe, it is prayer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem