Teach us how to pray

“Teach us how to pray” we ask, and yet
Is prayer not somehow deep within our skin?
Our breathing? aching? hoping? We forget
That we are made of dust and prayer, and in
That glorious strangeness we are held in turn
By threads of purest prayer that catch the light,
The heavenly light, that makes the darkness burn
As we, with patchwork beauty, quench the night.
And yet, although the fabric of our being
Is in itself an act of prayer, we still
Need help to see ourselves, and in our seeing
To pay attention to the maker’s skill
Which weaves our words with substance as we say
That ancient prayer “Lord, Teach us how to pray”

© Rich Clarkson, April 2024