Abigail Sefzik

Oh God, hear our drowning prayer- far from tame.

Our prayer is a “why God”,
Not a “dear God”.
Our prayer is a violent drowning plea,
Not stiff small talk.
Our prayer is thundering protest,
Not a quiet mutter.
Our prayer is a guttural cry to save our souls,
Not a please and thank you.
Our prayer is a panicked flailing,
Not courteous filler words.
Our prayer is desperate splashing,
Not a polite denouement.
Our prayer is ceaseless tears,
Not a sugar-coated amen.
Our prayer is a terrified asphyxiation,
Not an expected obligation.
Our prayer is suffocated screams,
Not a performance to gain an affirmation.
Our prayer is drunken hallelujah,
Not a religious duty.
Our prayer is a death-bed altercation,
Not a neat conversation.
Our prayer is a drug-induced sob,
Not a pious pre-scripted presentation.
Our prayer is soaked sackcloth and ashes,
Not our pressed Sunday best.
Our prayer is a passionate revolution,
Not a shallow bullshit response.
Our prayer is asking taboo questions,
Not expecting answers.
Our prayer is treading water because stopping means drowning.