As Lori Prays

I see the prayer on her lips,
it begins with Xolair

and creeps her skin from shin to fingertip
from her scalp to the soles of her feet
until all the stars of heaven explode
in a supernova of her
until every cell that is her
is the light that leads the wise
to the manger

and with her,
we are more wise.

For her struggle,
for the strangled voice
That dares live on

I lift my arms to heaven, I lift my song to heaven,
I cry out for inspiration and friendship, for her wings
to cradle the air beneath her
and life to be the constant joy of another unknown tomorrow

I see the prayer on her lips,
She begs, "Dear God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change."

She is tired, and the guttural sound that wretches from her soul,
drowns out the chorus of angels that sing for her, "more life."

These are the gifts of God to man:
the prayers that are answered in friendship
the moments that are anchored in love
the voices that whisper under the weather
the joy of touch, of taste, of color

I see the prayer on her lips,
the alleluia of stolen time, the hosanna of talented hands
and the salvation of chemical concoctions.

her days dissolve
then float away with joy.

this disease is not an amen,

courage is the benediction
an open heart is the altar

the tumors are not the answer

golden hair is her sacrifice
and the God is well pleased
when she smiles.

I see her prayer,
and hear answers that louder than short breaths
more real than the sores that cover her porcelain skin.

The rain of friends is a balm,
and she heals by inspiring

Alleluia.


She prays, "God grant me the wisdom to know and feel faith."

She prays, "God give me courage."

And I hear the Amen
in the love of her friends.

Alleluia

Amen.