A Prayer

“Cut me.” I shudder

at my words. My strange

agreement, the hard edged offspring

of an often inconvenient trust.

A submission to

One greater

than I. The stars testify

and the intricacies of ant life

demonstrate wisdom. So I

remain still, anticipating

more pain. Resolved

to not escape or avoid or medicate

or anesthetize. Though I may find a way

to be surprised, It will come. Perhaps

exact and acute, a surgeon's knife;

perhaps chaotic and

messy, a car crash. Whichever,

Oh God tether me

to Reality, to Love

that does not make

sense to or agree with

the me that You

are cutting away.