In the silence of a stilled moment
the pause between
a breath in,
a breath out,
there is a communion of Spirit
a lyric of grief unspoken,
a song of loss unmourned,
a psalm of memory unkept,
a touch of the Divine, unasked.
Pray then, not before, not after
Pray then, if thou wouldst
(not for you, or me, or them, or us, or anything)
Pray for emptiness.
Pray to be a barren husk,
the final winds of autumn having blown you into darkest winter,
Pray to be the paint left on the Artist’s palette,
Pray to be the space behind the candle’s flame,
Pray for the hollowness that comes at 3am on the day a beloved parent dies or at 5am when you read the text of a senseless loss or at 4pm when the pill bottle is empty and it was full at 2pm or at 12am midnight-
when everything stops
when breath is stilled
when all is silence and silence is all
in that moment
in that very moment
pray for grace, and nothing else.