by Jeffrey Essmann
we sit there kneel there hearts thrown open aching pleading (maybe joyful) happy numb confused within the orb of prayer, its warming grace enfolding us and pointing deep within to teach us each to read the passion there; somewhere behind me somewhere near i hear someone a woman (old) who whispers something only God can hear; i catch alone the tender roll of word on word the subtle sibilance of faint and fitful plea; and ask the Lord if all my needs (so blind, so deaf) might please be joined to hers.
Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Grand Little Things and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.