When the War Comes Home

I found out this morning that I am a real prayer warrior
with my well thought out prayers, learned
and parroted from scripture readings,
church liturgy, and fed by the Holy Spirit.
I throw in something personal from time to time
just to keep it real. I talk to Jesus
like a friend, a respected and loved friend,
but just a couple guys having a beer. By mixing
it up that way, Jesus becomes my buddy,
know what I mean?
But what if the war comes home,
like it did to me today?
It’s like living in nature; you know the sun and the stars,
the trees and the lakes are all there, but
they are – over there, not here-here.
Then, one day you smell them, you touch them, you
walk among them. Now, you know what it’s like
to be “in” nature. It’s like that with the war.
Yes, prayer is easy, it is noble, it is satisfying to
sound so sacrificial and concerned about
someone else’s war. But, when the war
comes home, prayer turns to begging and tears,
It turns to cursing the devil and the evil
he spews on me. It’s not a prayer I could say
in front of you. Suddenly, God seems powerless
to stop him. Now what do I do with my fine prayers
about your war?
I have no choice but to pray through my tears, to beg
like a person in real pain because that is who I am.
Where else can I go? Who else can I talk to?
I am the one who is powerless. I must have faith
that our great God is there and hears me.
What else can I do?