The Lord’s Prayer

Reverend Matt’s words don’t bounce
directly off my body,
but they do skim the bones –
they certainly don’t sink deeply into them
as they once did.

But I sit,
and I stay,
and I hold out hope for a tiny reassurance
from a fragile proclamation.

We begin the Lord’s Prayer
in somewhat heavy tones,
compared to the light
and soft-hued pastels in the pews.

I heave into the heaviness
but my toes itch,
they spread wide with disappointment,
planted, and on the edge of leaving

when from the edge of my ears
a new sound emerges —

the joyful, unfeigned voice of a little boy
echoes sweetly against the dulled
and resigned recitation
coming out of older, wounded mouths.

It is completely out of place
and exactly where it should be.

It is enough to make the corners of my heart
turn fully upwards to my chin

For thine is the KINGDOM!
the POWER!
and the GLORY!

Sung so cheerfully by the precious boy
who an hour earlier
gave one of his Easter eggs
to his sister at her grave.


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