sos, again

if my prayers were pennies,

how many in the jar?

when will I have saved enough

to finally meet the bar?

shake the jar, and listen-

metallic, cheerful clink.

surely I am closer now-

or so I have to think.

//

if my prayers were raindrops,

how many ‘til the flood?

I never stop them falling,

but the answer’s clear as mud.

water’s meant to cleanse, soothe,

to usher clarity;

but all my cloud-sent prayers do

is further confuse me.

//

if my prayers were whispers

(and they often, always are),

can You even hear them?

or are You just to far?

do You hear me better

when I shout and scream and cry?

will my penny raindrop whispers

ever catch Your eye?

///