----for some of my favorite priests
I ‘d been dreaming about a prayer—
words now forgotten—
in one of those dreams that repeats itself
in a contiguous loop
like that of a scratched phonograph record,
needle stuck in a grime-filled groove.
The simple prayer seemed doable.
And by doable, I mean, even when life gets
complicated with the washer broken, the in-laws
mad, the brightest star fading, burning out,
about to fall from the sky.
Suddenly I woke to the wildest calm:
a backyard of sunshine and trees.
I recall from scripture a blind man
begging for sight. And in the homily,
the priest admitted, It’s not always easy
to be a priest.” I rose from my bed and fell
to my knees. I’ll be praying for priests today.
And for the “blind.”