In the silence is prayer hung by tender threads
Trying to focus on God, shutting out the day and
All its worry, business, noise just to be quiet with
You for the space it takes to pray. Sometimes
It seems the prayer will never form, there will never
Be a relaxing of the heavy, crushing air and then
The fabric is rent and out pours the words tumbling
Off tongue in approach of lifting the heart heavenward.
You are there somewhere in the struggle of that birth,
The burst of light, the lightening of the load. In times
Both good and bad, happy or sad you come to listen
As we wrap up all we can in our hearts word. It seems
We are lighter for having come and set awhile in the
Garden of your presence even if the struggle is long.