The 2 AM Prayer

The 2 AM Prayer

The bitter tang of disappointment

Yields against my teeth

Blood red like wine or apple skins

Or chapped lips

The swallow burns like brandy

Smoke curling in my throat

And up, up and out through tears

Trailing like comet tails across my face

I am a burned wick on the inside

Brittle and charred

Wishing for all the world to be a

New candle again.

No amount of wishing will make the flame unlit

And I am here, in the hollow of old wax,

Too stubborn to let go of

That which is not meant for me.

Let me yield to the wick trimmer

To the careful tending of my candle jar

By Your hand unseen;

Let me yield and be free.