Prayer
It wasn’t until I lied down with my son tonight that I felt inspired to write. He’d had a long day at summer camp and I’d had a long day off during which time I mostly slept. I’ve been sleeping most of the day for the past several days. I’d worry except I know this is me catching up on dead air, still very productive for me. Lying down feels good.
The particular view from his bed—we looked up at the air conditioning unit at work, and a glimpse of the beautiful sunset behind blackout curtains—helped in the inspiring of me. The tone of rest has to change for meaning to occur. I was filled with doubt until I lied down.
Lying comes naturally.
I went to work. After he fell asleep I went to the kitchen and started working on a potion. Lately I find myself relying on a sort of prayer. The potion is an entreaty for compassion but until I am inspired, I have to rely on prayers to you.
I reply all in a subterfuge of lying down. I lie down and I lie and I rely and I reply and what I see now are the colors of compassion. A sunset hiding behind blackout curtains so my son can go to sleep with the low hum of an air conditioner god it feels good to be alive inside a hot city summer.
