Prayer

It’s quiet here where slice of day

finds its courage to slowly blink, as

birds fluff their dry feathers from dust;

which forms mini clouds in hot sun.

The stalks of corn bow low to cracked

earth unable to perspire due to drought.

It’s quiet here where dollops of doubt

find its way into corners of the heart;

tears flow, drip down once dry cheeks

which pool in trembling, empty hands.

The God of almighty resources waits-

for those hands to stretch towards Him.

It’s quite here where a pinch of hope

finds it’s way into the doubting soul,

as prayers rise like incense to the One

to whom clouds, man and all were formed.

The blessed hope lies in power of prayer

not in the fragile strength, or pride of man.

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” Mark 11:24