Why do we look down to pray?
“Please stand for our morning petitions.”
The intercom crackles over the school.
All rise to stare at their feet,
mundanely answer with the response,
“Blessed Father...”
as if God inhabited their shoes.
Should I look up?
My eyes dart around,
bowed head, to bowed head.
Two girls mouth words to each other,
smiling at their inside joke.
I wonder if God finds it funny.
My face turns to the ceiling,
and a feeling of heaviness impresses me.
God is there,
in morning prayer,
smiling in my searching eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem