Today is National Poetry day here in the U.K. so no surprise on what I am blogging this morning!
As I listen to and read the fine examples coming over the media today I find myself again struck by the fact that poetry seldom needs introducing or explaining. If it ‘works’ as a poem it says enough.
Sometimes a little context can help – but not too much. The poem should say the rest.
So I shall be brief. I wrote this poem for a number of reasons: because I want to pray, because we all pray in some way, because I’m interested in what prayer ‘is’, and because I find prayer to be – at its most essential – a reaching out to the divine.
“And Now For A Short Time of Silent Prayer…”
Suddenly I’m a man herding cats of consciousness,
Pinning tails on rampaging elephants of urgency.
I’m a crazy cyclist weaving across the crowded rush hour bridge;
A hyper-speed cashier desperately shifting un-called for thoughts past the red-eyed bleeper.
Blooming and burgeoning beneath my very feet;
A wide-eyed traffic controller at Psyche central,
Anxiously juggling a matrix of incoming signals…
“Silent prayer…silent…silent…prayer…pray…pray…” I repeat.
Now the cats are on the bicycles, weaving between elephants of unusual guilt,
Tearing up the corners of my senses,
The Jungle is hot and close,
My scanner is about to jump from the bridge
And flight 302 from Prayer is still circling, circling, circling,
Running low on fuel.
An awkward pause in the conversation.
A gap in the traffic.
A break in the cloud.
A rest in the music.
Two lovers across a crowded room, two arrows shot through the dark, our eyes meet.
Just like the first time.
Everything drops, everything stops, everything else is on mute.
I lower my gaze and shuffle my awkward feet.
And you know…and I smile…and we know…and we smile…
For just a moment.
Then the cats are chasing the piranha of purpose (where did she come from?)
The commuters are hustling in,
The checkout queue is getting fretful and noisy and the Elephant’s sitting on something nasty…
But… it’s O.K.
Because you found me,
Now I’m a man watching not acting.
Now I’m a man listening not talking.
Now I’m a man seeing…and believing
Now I’m a man praying.
I sit with my God.
One sweet moment of silent prayer.
Seex Dyer 2015
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