Brigid Faye, Reader

And the dawn’s fresh dew,

Announces another day.

I find myself upon a pew,

And bow my head to pray.

And the prayers in my mind

Seem always to be answered.

In deep prayer I find,

My place in this world is secured.

And the people I pray for

Are nearly limited to me.

For I am a hearty store

Of pain and misery.

And in the prayer

I clean it out,

My body gets less heavy,

When the burdens I am without.

Aren’t locked behind a key.