Lord, let your ears be open to my prayer.
I know Lord, that your will is mine,
and my will is yours,
when you strengthen my intolerance.
All holy men, Lord, experience your mightiness
in their coiffures; fail me not in this department,
and let me bring the suffering,
the indignities, the insecurity, that you would have
my enemies bear—all those who look not like me,
act not like me, and whose hearts are indifferent
to the ruffle of cold, hard cash.
Heaven’s bounty is not for all,
this you assure me every time I make my snideness heard,
every time my tongue is full with untruths.
Lord, let the least sophisticated
of all social networks be my lectern,
and let the people of this great nation
hear in my sermon the powerful disdain I have for them.
The prophet Moses said…
Ah, but Lord, hear my humble prayer,
and if it is your will, use me as you’ve used
your other messengers of faith, such Douglas Frederick
or whoever, who is doing a fantastic job, by the way.
Let my unsurmountable fear of failure
make me blind to my countless hypocrisies;
and let me always be more glib than informed.
In my name, hear my prayer.
[“The Healing Hands” by Joseph Novak, used by permission of Creative Commons license CC BY 2.0. https://flic.kr/p/7wZmTX]