Evening Prayer

By Nicholas Goodly

who bestowed upon me
this habit of wanting
music from a pen this addiction
to the gentleness of vowels
what are these notes
from people’s heads
what is the point
of being the last one
to speak a beautiful language
I am a fraction
of what I could’ve been
what else can I contribute
I am outdone by children
with more to lose
a teenager instructing me
how to breathe
these kids are quick
they grab the hands
of their neighbors
pull each other
safely up for air
there is your enemy and son
your wife and brother
your prize and secret cross
golden fleece and weighted cast
heaven knows
I want this to be a poem
people reach for
how often have I told myself
I am not strong and time
keeps proving me wrong
when snow doesn’t come
when I am not enough
let me do the right thing
and make a rope of words
let it begin with me even now
there is richness beyond belief
vulnerable warrior what risk is there
we who already die in so many places
this not even the worst of them
no one line is revolutionary
no one word ever is
I am grateful for not dying yet
I inhale what is in front of me
everything is changing
young hearts any love
I can describe for you
does not suffice but you
are worth my every effort
one day you will know love like this
and write it better than I

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