This morning I packed my breakfast.
Oatbran cereal and a banana.
I used the leftover soy milk
that they gave with the coffee carrier
for our poetry meeting.
Every Thursday at 7 we meet in the church office.
Three of us today, barely awake sharing our
prompts from the week before.
Lent comes from Lencten, which means Spring.
What have you got to read for us?
I’m in bed around 10 on Wednesdays.
Trying to will the one thing with restless discipline.
My bed at 10:04 pm is the loneliest place.
Does that make me a saint?
I wasn’t scheduled for work today,
which means I will be praying for a miracle
next week. So I walked down to the
church of the transfiguration to spend an
hour in prayer.
I was the only one in the small chapel,
and I set up the kneeling pad and
fell asleep instantly.
I woke up twenty minutes later
and tried to pray sitting upright
in the pew. I woke up
in the middle of a dream about swords
and gemstones, and decided to head to
a cafe instead. The barista gave me a merengue
which I took as a sign of God’s pleasure, but I
couldn’t eat it because it was too sweet, and what was
I doing eating sweets during Lent anyway?
For lunch I went to the little halal restaurant next to
the mosque on 29th street. Prayer service was being held,
I could tell by the sneakers and shoes in the cubbies
outside the door.
One dark bearded man rushed by me on his
way inside and I felt like I knew how he felt.
I thought about him once more while eating
my eggplant and potatoes over rice.
Wondered if we two, well intentioned
but disheveled, would always be falling
asleep in church
or running late
to our afternoon prayer?