The Word That Is A Prayer

This week a friend of mine sent me this poem. I read it once, rather quickly, and didn't really think anything of it. But when I revisited the piece a few days later when I had more time, I was moved--almost to tears. It reminds me so much of how I've felt over the past three years as we've gone through the gamut of emotions associated with infertility and adoption. It's such a powerful piece...enjoy!

The Word That Is a Prayer

One thing you know when you say it:
all over the earth people are saying it with you;
a child blurting it out as the seizures take her,
a woman reciting it on a cot in a hospital.
What if you take a cab through the Tenderloin:
at a street light, a man in a wool cap,
yarn unraveling across his face, knocks at the window;
he says, Please.
By the time you hear what he’s saying,
the light changes, the cab pulls away,
and you don’t go back, though you know
someone just prayed to you the way you pray.
Please: a word so short
it could get lost in the air
as it floats up to God like the feather it is,
knocking and knocking, and finally
falling back to earth as rain,
as pellets of ice, soaking a black branch,
collecting in drains, leaching into the ground,
and you walk in that weather every day.

--Ellery Akers