My Prayer-book

My prayer book is the Bible, oh,

A rose, or wind-tossed trees

My prayer book is the trial’s blow

Sent to bend stubborn knees

My prayer book is a daughter, far
away or at my side
A son grown taller than his father
Rife with dreamer's pride

My prayer book is my mother, ah
For oft her head was bowed
As she surrendered to the law
Of what God's love allowed

My prayer book is the Vast Unknown

It teaches me to trust

While laughter, longing, grin and groan

Tunes its Cardinal Must

My prayer book is a baby-child

Innocence watching me

My prayer book is ‘maybes’ run wild

That thwart what I can see

My prayer book is the love I hold

The love I wish I had

The love that jars me with its gold

And weights me with its lead

My prayer book is the dark of night

Silence can wail with fear

My prayer book is the Morning Light

Kind proof that God is near

My prayer book is soft, whisper-bound
A Tome of death and birth
While thought turns pages without sound
God moves heaven and earth

© Janet Martin