Prayer as an atheist feels wrong

I don't know how to pray

They teach you to steeple your hands

Bow your head

Defer reverence to the God of Compassion

They don't tell you what to say

Sure, there are divinities in words

And the names of the demiurge 

And the whispers of contrition

But they don't say the middle bits 

The "I'm sorry" that breathes silence

Into the conversation of your heart

And the tingle of connection in your mind

The muttered Lord's Prayer meant to bepeace 

The fluttering fears in our stomachs

The crackling of thunder on slumbering trees

They don't teach you how to talk to God 

He's all knowing but does He hear

With His Good ears the fear inside me

That I'm performing, anxious to be heard

But petrified of being seen

That I do not match His image of Man

I am not a faithful man

I let sin fall in my heart,

 the same as many others 

But I hope that the war in my thoughts

In a quiet, peaceful bay,

Is for a purpose

That one day I, too, 

Will lay down beside still waters

And rest.