I clasped my hands together like a child,

before I found I no longer believed,

and as I lay on the sofa, hiding

from the dark, two in the morning blues,

I prayed;

not to your God,

not to mine of childhood nightmares

of Heaven and Hell,

but to the wider Universe,

to the ground in which our feet may tread

and to my ancestors,

please end this suffering

of a woman I love, I implored silently,

only once raising my voice when the strain

became too much and quickly realising

that the sleeping dead were all around me,

trying to rest peacefully before their days of toil.

Last night I prayed, today I pray

you forgive me.

Ian D. Hall 2017