You use my name like a prayer
Ask for all with the one word you speak.
It’s sufficient: I am always there.
You assume what I have I will share.
You want, you ask, you seek
Your whole life is a prayer.
You demand boldly–declare
my name while your thrown cup leaks–
frustrated when I seem not to care.
In pitiful offerings of tears
over curled lips and wet cheeks,
my name is your desperate prayer.
Even silent, your aim is clear.
Arms up, unashamed to be weak
before one whose love drives out fear.
Could he possibly beware
the day my name won’t suffice?
Will he call on the name that I preach?
Will he still hang his hopes on a prayer?