Poetry-or-Prayers in the Shower

I told myself I would go to church today;

on a day that is not Christmas eve.

On a regular Sunday morning.

Instead, I decided to shower.

I sat my naked butt onto the grimy floor and closed my eyes

and let the water fall over me like rain.

I bowed my head to keep the water from staining my eyes.

I recited poetry;

pretended that I was praying.

I pretended that God could hear me, or that God was real.

I pretended that God listened to me, or that he even cared.

I wondered if God ever got tired of people talking at him all the time;

asking him for things.

I wondered if he was even a he; or a she; or an it.

I wondered if God ever got tired of listening to people sing off key.

I wondered if God checked all his emails;

Or just the ones with promising titles;

Or the ones with the gold star next to their names.

I wondered if God was as tired as I am listening to empty voices.

I wondered if my voice was the empty one;

Or maybe it was just my ears.

Wanting to get into the shower but not is a metaphor.

Or maybe the metaphor is the hot water running out

While all the while I’m sitting naked on my bed.

Maybe life is running out while I’m too distracted searching for something to life for.

Whether the thing I live for is God or just another good poem I don’t really know.

But what I do know is that I’ve never felt cleaner in my life.

Amen.