A short but difficult prayer with
a wealth of meaning,
living it and following its ways,
need lots of practising,
To mouth the words quickly without
examining every line
is like running through a poem that
doesn’t seem to rhyme.

Given by the Saviour when asked
how to pray,
“With your hands lifted to God,
say it every day.”
The first line certifies his abode, the
second - His name to extol,
With hope too, His rule will descend
to save every soul,

His way is right I know, whether
with angels or man,
So why do I turn on him in anger
when my will ain’t done?
I ask for enough to get me through
to run my daily chores,
So, why do I compare with another
who seems to receive more?

I beg pardon for my sins, but when
foes do me great wrong,
asking Him to do the forgiving, is like
stringing Him along.
Don’t make me stray, protect me from
the evils of the world, I cry,
like snatch-thieves, murderers, jealous
workers and Satan who comes by.

This candid conversation with Him, I have,
morning and night,
Sometimes in between, too, when things
don’t go right.
I savour the Lord’s Prayer as I articulate
each word slow,
That I’ll do till the Grim Reaper comes to
take me. Where? I wouldn’t know.