A Silent Prayer
By Avlen L’rae
I was too tired to pray
so I asked God to hear my heart.
I was too hurt . . . too worked . . . too weak
. . . too speechless to know how to start.
So quietly I sat in the dark,
quietly I thought all my thoughts,
quietly I feared all my fears
and all the anguish those fears brought.
I felt Him right there with me
— whispering, comforting, calm —
He did not give me answers;
I still don’t know right from wrong.
He didn’t give me direction
or tell me I’d be okay;
He didn’t say He loved me,
but I felt what He didn’t say.
I opened my eyes from praying
. . . still lost as lost was before
. . . still unsure of a path to travel,
but not worried anymore.
My problems still before me.
My tasks still hard to complete.
My mind still disillusioned.
But my heart calmed in its beats.
Nothing had changed around me
from the moment I opened my eyes;
— unchanged . . . unmoved —
but I was changed inside.
And that has made all the difference
— that moment between God and I —
when I was too tired to pray
but not too tired to cry.
For me, a lover of words,
the one thing I have learned:
It’s the ones who cannot find them
who God has already heard.