THE MYSTERY OF PRAYER
By John Herlihy

I
Some people speak of the mystery of prayer;
The religions offer the faithful ritual fare.
Whenever a person is beset with sorrow,
The down-trodden turn to prayer for comfort to borrow.
Whenever there is a death in the family,
The bereaved turn to prayer to lessen their melancholy.

II
I too have experimented with inner prayer,
When I needed to lay my emotions bare,
Dig into my inner self to explore what lay inside,
Unveiling with frankness the secrets I wanted to hide.
So many weaknesses and failures, lies and hypocrisy;
It’s a wonder I didn’t fall over the edge into lunacy.

III
As a child my innocent heart recited the Lord’s Prayer,
To become more spiritually aware and ward off despair;
Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy Name:
Uttering the sacred words seemed like fun, as in a game,
Perpetuated by innocent voices reaching for the sublime,
Imitating their elders with heads bowed as in a mime.

IV
Some say that prayer fills us with hidden power,
That we can draw upon for inner strength hour by hour.
At day’s opening when we send entreaties into the sky,
They soar like sparrows through haunted mansions on high.
At the closing of day when we have work accomplished,
We give thanks for any misfortune we may have vanquished.

V
Who can say what the future will bring?
Only God, the Almighty, can know such a thing.
What can we do but live each day as a hill to climb,
Day after blessed day until the end of time.
With the heart’s veil lifted and the sun door ajar,
The mystery of prayer will reveal who we are.