Lighting the Candle

Prayer is the space between breath and no breath,

the love between the wax and the flame,

the space between peace and no peace,

the music between the taps of the heart’s dance.

Prayer is the between place, the maybe, and the hesitation,

the echo of footsteps long forgotten,

the face you wish you could remember,

the regret you wish you had shared,

the more or less, the nearly,

the almost love, but not quite there.

Prayer is foxtrot, reel, quickstep, and tango, once more with feeling, again,

after we decide not to jump from

the bridge.

Prayer is the intake of breath that mixes hope and sorrow.

Prayer is the call made but not answered,

the failure of faith, and the mercy of one more time,

the distance between fear and trust.

Prayer is the push of guaranteed despair and the pull of guaranteed certainty.

Prayer is the voice that asks, “Why do you weep? Run and tell the others.”

Prayer is the love between the wax and the flame.