Let my prayer be counted as incense before you,
    And the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice.
—Psalm 141


I am prayer,
I am a room without walls,
a Rubix Cube,
the Rubicon.

I am the parting of the
Red Sea,
the brass ring,
the gold at the
end of the rainbow.

I am prayer,
I am mysterious,
the five senses
without sight.

I am a broken relationship
repaired,
loneliness
beyond tears.

I am prayer,
the upper room,
Do this for the
the remembrance
of me.*

I am a child with
Down Syndrome,
I am cared for,
loved, nurtured,
and I can sing.

I am prayer,
the road less traveled,
the road home,
this is the way
the night passes.

My hands are folded,
lifted up and away
there is light,
music, hope
and grace.

I am prayer,
I am a room without walls,
the five senses,
especially touch.

My words are gentle,
I can be whispered
or sung,
or shouted
from the rooftops.


© Lewis Bosworth, 1-2017