The Good Results of Prayer
The devout will tell you—
How in the stillness,
They clasp hands tight
(As if to squeeze out wisdom)
And whispers ascend.
They’ll swear by the strength—
Not their own, but loaned—
That flexes in their feeble grip;
The clarity that visits
The confused yet hopeful mind.
Peace, they say, settles
Like dust after the storm—
Firm, even as the world blurs
Into another question unasked:
What face does solace wear
Amidst the clang and clamor
Of our difficult days?