A Prayer, A Conversation

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Father,

I speak humbly.

I speak without the colors of pride.

I push aside all that leads to sin,

and for moment,

while the world is held at bay,

I endeavor to hear you.


Father,

I am weak.

I speak from my knees with a seeker's heart.

I struggle to focus

when my soul is troubled

and my thoughts become jumbled

amid my distress.


Father,

my words are few,

somedays.

I know not what I am to offer.

I have nothing worthy of a temple's flame

nor do I have purity

of heart and mind.


Father,

today my knees ache

and my mind is weary.

My petitions are rarely changed.

I cherish the gifts you have bestowed on me

and ponder

the days to come.


Father,

have mercy on my floundering soul.

I am a wretched vagabond

an exile of your creation.

Look on me with kindness

when like the prodigal son

I return.



copyright 2026 - Donald P James Jr

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