A prayer for the weary preacher

Abundant Word,
your economy of language
makes wine out of water,
a feast of fish and bread,
breaking nets out of sleepless nights

I come with crumbs,
with unslept eyes,
high on the fumes of the day,
my shredded garment of flesh
clothing a crumpled soul,
and what will I say?

Dare I pray for a miracle,
fall on my knees, bruised with sin,
beg you to multiply mercy until
it spills from my lips
like alleluias?

Updated 3/2/2019

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