Hear my prayer

Crocuses purple the lawn in Lenten array.
Surrounded by dead, dry leaves of last year, they
insist upon spring, despite the morning frost.
My prayer is ice –
How long, O Lord?

The days become lighter,
but the news grows heavy;
my morning prayer, sunlit, turns
to fire and ashes on my lips –
My God, my God.

The lake has melted. Sand and shale
strewn by the winter floes litter the beach.
I pick out the pebbles that hint at a heart
of stone. My prayers are rocks
thrown heavenward;

yet, he said one day,
picking his way over cobbles and coats,
palm branches on a colt, “If these
were silent, the stones would shout out,”
as though he who had heard the rubble
would hear me, after all.

This poem first appeared at The Episcopal Cafe

About Rosalind C Hughes

Rosalind C Hughes is a priest and author living near the shores of Lake Erie. After growing up in England and Wales, and living briefly in Singapore, she is now settled in Ohio. She serves an Episcopal church just outside Cleveland. Rosalind is the author of A Family Like Mine: Biblical Stories of Love, Loss, and Longing , and Whom Shall I Fear? Urgent Questions for Christians in an Age of Violence, both from Upper Room Books. She loves the lake, misses the ocean, and is finally coming to terms with snow.
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