There are plenty of ways to end this poem with a “ribbon”. But most of our prayers exist before the “ribbon”. This poem meets us, like the psalms, in the space of not knowing. Faith occurs in unrequested places. Sometimes, but only sometimes, those places are temporary. Mercy is much bigger than we imagine.

Prayer, thirsty in the crows nest with no land in sight. 

Ten thousand silent waves lapping. Open water.

Drifting down and away from all horizons.

In this boundless cell of questions.

The old ways reluctantly fall.

A place of beauty and ash.

A blood spilt mutiny.

Submission.

Come Mercy, diminish me.

That in this salt sea I might overflow.

Back to the crowsnest I climb. Watchers stare. 

Wisdom waits. To be the fool pointing upon the horizon 

Prayer. What a school!

-B.Oaks