War Zone: A Reflective Prayer
Here it is, God, my heart-mind, I sit it
before you: beating, feeling, thinking,
red and purple and dark like a war zone.
Serious battles have been waged here,
landmines planted and detonated,
DUK boats and Higgins boats rushing
upon the shores, infantry parachutes and
ripcords littering the sands, soldiers
in trenches and once-whizzing bullets
canvassing the grounds. Casualties around
and victories. White flags. Surrenders.
This battleground from head to chest,
this is sacred to you, isn’t it, God? You’ve
come for it and pursued relentlessly
until you’ve transgressed the boundaries,
stupid as they are, that I’ve attempted to
establish. You’ve come into what was once
enemy territory and laid siege to this
18-inch expanse, and I gave in when I
saw no way out. You now inhabit this place
and I have become your slave, now a
prisoner of war, but freer than I’ve ever been.