A prayer and a lament

I sit with the ancestorsSipping from a gorgeous cup that sends me deep into my body
Sipping golden rod tea, mild, sweet
A good Sunday morning teaI light the wormwoodHear my prayers
Oh whomever might be listening
I know not to whom I pray anymoreTeach me to prayI’ve lost the prayers of my mystic self
Left alone with empty senseless words
I long to pour out my soul.
Words are easy for me
Why can’t I pray?I long for something unseen, unfelt
Something unattainable
But what?I’ve got to stir the embers.
Blow gently until they catch
I’ve got to tend the fire
With care and loveEarth, fire, air, and water
Come in, come in
There are dark corners to be swept out
There is dusting to do
The weeds are lovely but they need pruning so my heart can bask in the sun once againThe prayers will spill from my lips again
Gratitudes, laments, rants and rages
Praises and sorrowsIt’s been so long
Too long
Until that time, these poems will be my prayers