-
Benision before your Venison, my Dear
Gordon McDermott
Quello infinito e ineffabil bene
What continues from that leastless
yeasty body, that sunny-
science in the bleb of the ‘that’,
no, —the that—
which is directed, like light, to a loved body
inductivly, indelably, and reductivly
rendered to be that
which had once meant who
as in ‘Our Father which
art in Heaven’
—which body was bread
-
Prayer for Amniocentesis
David McGlynn
We have been debating names for weeks, but now we choose one, Hayden, aware it’s a name we might have to bury. I sit on the edge of the bed and think about the vial of amniotic fluid—Katherine’s water—traveling by van to the lab in Milwaukee. I think of its soft amber color, its protective viscosity, its blizzard of DNA, the helix of Hayden’s existence a braid of Katherine’s alleles and mine.
-
A Statement from the Defense
Erin McGraw
Because you promised to be with me even to the end of time. Because you told me to be still and know who you are. Because it was said you would lead me through the shadow of the valley of death and take away my fear, but I still have my fear. Because you promised me repose.
-
Two
Megan McShea
Precisely this fogged window, which prevails in the cold, wet night, blinks out onto an uninhabited land of Other People?s houses and in sight of all that forgotten real estate, along with all the amiable conversations on phones across America and evenings shared in movie houses, around the corner from a recent homicide, down the block from wild lots and weeds, great unknowns, colossal, all evolving along with Darwin and his species. One?s life, assumed to be finite, ticking away. Night covers things up but you can still hear the rain.
-
You're Asleep
Stephen Mead
I think
On automatic pilot
In a commuter plane.
Flying at night is the most peaceful thing.
These lights are our own Tivoli,
A cathedral of sky. Going so deep
While floating as if through glass
As it forms, is to apprehend
How significant smallness can be,
Meaning us in this vast cavern,
Meaning those spires,
Those good window faces—Look—down there in the dark.
-
A Prayer for Lack of You
Kyle Minor
When I was a child I feared all the Old Testament curses—dogs, frogs, being struck down by forked lightning? Which were Old Testament curses and which were the talk of the traveling preachers in their white suits and black slickback hair? Either way, it doesn't matter. One was You and the other was You. You let anyone who wants to speak for You speak for You, so what is left for the children of the world to do but see You in the ones who speak for You? If You are You, shame on You, for sparing those who speak for You the dogs, the frogs, the forked lightning.
-
Guru
Amy Minton
It has come to my attention through the wisdom of Guru Jaua Opi that directly behind my navel exists a terrifying labyrinth of decaying gas pipes, one of which is leaking a weak blue flame.
The Guru says, This is your life force. Or I think he said that. His accent is very heavy and the screeching war planes overhead mute all sound for a minute and a half, but he keeps talking. It holds the fire, I think he says. He pounds his own navel. What does your flame look like?
-
Three Poems
Victoria Bosch Murray
The doctor asks where it hurts.
With the tip of a borrowed pen you trace the absent rib,
that Biblical scar, tickle the edge
of the raised ridge, a vacant dune between
land and sea just below your left breast—
like asking where pleasure starts,
where whiskey settles, when you first knew
his hand in your heart.
-
Acts of Reparation to the Virgin Mary
Brian Oliu
Our Lady of Guadalupe
Of course it would be to you—you, dark-haired, you, an image of you on the forearm of a girl that I loved for a second or three, some time between the nights by the ice counting rotations and the time the girl called me from the house of a woman she met while jailed. She would talk to higher men in exchange for a sheet to pull over her arms, over her shoulders for a few nights. Of course we did not count the rotations. Of course she ignored you on her arm despite my constant touching of the raised skin on nights during those seconds or three, despite you making the most sense out of all of this: about a woman, about nothing mystical, about nothing mythical.
-
For a Recently Discovered Shipwreck at the Bottom of Lake Michigan
Matthew Olzmann
4/2/2010
Dear Shipwreck,
Even though you’re over a century old, they say that everything inside you is still intact. Even the crew? Must be lonely. I’ll write again.
-
Decomposing Articles of Faith
Melissa Pritchard
In which Sister Pritchard, Scribbler Pritchard, Goody Pritchard holds forth:
Praise God
That God both does and does not uphold our Neighborhood Watch.
That God both is and is not a projection of our innermost desires and fears.
That God is a handyman, our prayers to Him a honey-do.
-
Poems
Alicia Jo Rabins
DEAR LORD
I’m embarrassed by my love for You
and by the ugly cries
that escape me at night Worry birds
circling overhead, looking for You.
Summer's almost over, but
the tree’s single bud
has not opened.
-
Prayer
Jake Ricafrente
Our state—of books, condition, the body politic—
Is disrepaired, or worse, and wanting light to spill
Past veils, the banks of secrecy (chadors, Swiss laws,
And airy fabrication: all the latent bric-
A-brac of want), I probe the minor predicated clause,
Some ancient honey fungus, a continental shelf
For aims, designs. The world is tired of itself.
-
Serve and Volley
Micah Riecker
It’s Sunday and You’re inundated but I’m not asking for anything except a few moments of your time. Your eyes, Lord, and an ear, if I may.
-
Prayer
Adam Robinson
God,
nothing inspires fear in me like swallowing an apple seed. What if there are worms in the fruit that rises up from my belly? Worms freak me out.
But you know I love trees, God. Your creation is really magnificent.
-
Dear God
Ethel Rohan
I remember, as a girl, I could fly. I also remember You visited often. Not a luminous light, or an apparition, or anything I could hear or touch. You were a presence, a comfort, a knowing. Back then, I didn't need faith. I had certainty.
-
After Eden
Tracey S. Rosenberg
Why are you laughing as you send me away? I'm not done.
There are fresh grasses I want to roll in,
buzzing fizzing fairies to chase like a spring kitten
(I promise to set them free, every last one).
When you let me come in, there was no one else you wanted.
-
Two Poems
Danniel Schoonebeek
The word for what you want from me is novena,which means
nine days I will shave your beard and tell you: what falls
wants to rest with what falls, which is why your beard
wants to rest with the leaves in the trash bag, and why
when the leaves fall, what you want is to rest with me.
-
Two Poems
Nancy Scott
The glue holding the kitchen chair legs
is gone; dried in some season
I didn't see coming or going
and the windows need washing again.
-
Dear God
Barbara Shoup
Dear God,
Okay, first, full disclosure: I don’t believe You are a You.
Of course, if I’m wrong and You are a You, You already know this—and everything else, for that matter. And if You really are the all powerful You so many people imagine, the one with long white hair sitting on a throne in heaven (wherever that is), maybe You’ve got Your finger raised right now, pondering whether to unleash that lightning bolt and smite me for being insubordinate.
-
The Prayers of Saint John of the Cross
Adrian Sobol
Saint John of the Cross went to God to weep. His hands, he noticed, had aged. God told John, Age is but a signpost, a ticket on the light rail to the Kingdom of Me. It was easy for God to say, the Ageless, the Endless, the Unbound. John went to Saint Teresa for her succor and her wine, which she fermented from the blackberries growing in her garden. Soon, they were drunk and haughty. He sang a blues tune and Teresa accompanied. They recounted stories of Christmases together, of their fathers, who would argue incessantly. Fistfights were a tradition. Teresa recited Psalms and John took to blasphemy. Blasphemy, John wrote, is a shoots and ladders game to God.
-
"I Never Ask"
Matthew Specktor
What do you want from me? Where should I go? What am I waiting for? What’s your name? What about the other guy? How ‘bout those people I don’t know? Help that ugly girl, the guy who cut me off in traffic, the woman with the bad breath, those Craigslisters, the people who can’t spell. Help the Un-readers, O Lord, the people with Kindles, the Amazon shoppers, those folks who send too many Tweets. Bless the Status Updaters, who bore me, the breakfast-detailers and candid photographers, the ones with the burpy babies, the dying fish, the new puppies, the Ecstatics. Tell me what it’s like to be in love again, Lord, by making it happen to other people. Make me wealthy in spirit, by punishing me more. What about that traffic ticket? Can I have another? It’s not like I only broke that law once.
-
Grace
Brooks Sterritt
At the table, ready to eat. I hope they don’t ask me to bless the food. They do. “Be present at our table…” Nervous. Can they hear doubt in my voice? Everpresent, effervescent Lord, we beseech thee to pencil us in for a brief moment of conscience-assuagement and dietary protection. “...be here and everywhere adored...” How great thou art: here, there, and everywhere, hence it should be effortless to come down, enter into my consciousness for a yoctosecond.
-
Center of the Universe
Joe Sullivan
Raining this morning, and
she’s sick again, lying
next to you, as a
mini-you. I’m putting
my clothes on in the
dark again, about to
leave, about to wonder
how your day will evolve.
On Earth As It Is was an online journal of prayer narratives, or dramatic monologues addressed to God, from writers of different faiths. From 2010-2012, the journal featured writers such as Melanie Rae Thon, Erin McGraw, Melissa Pritchard, Ken Baumann, and others.
Printing is not supported at the primary Gallery Thumbnail page. Please first navigate to a specific Image before printing.
