Prayer before dawn

In the early hours,
long before the stars dim,
long before the light brings colour to the shadowed earth
I lie awake trying to pray.

Thoughts swirl like pillars of mosquitoes
goading the silence of the heart but thoughts are not prayer.

I muster memories to milk emotion's energy and strength
remembering with joy your passionate embrace of life that often left me wishing I was more like you;
I let my indignation rise at cancer's bold audacity
to trespass where it will
but neither love nor anger constitute a prayer.
So I wait in quiet impotence,
staring in the darkness
without words to shape the wishes,
or strength to shape the will;
waiting as the last mosquito settles for the night
and peace unbidden creeps like mist across the pre-dawn dark.

I remember
that the birds will shortly sing,
the sun will rise,
the daily miracle of life will ring with random and chaotic joy
and every cell we own
will hum with life today.

And maybe that's a kind of prayer
to pray.

(c) A McN