Even those who pass
through church doors can often
be surprised by prayer
the tiny familiar ache
of loss like a baby’s fingers clutching
at a breast, or the surprise
and warm delight of a voice
heard across a great absence
of forgetfulness, neglect
or perhaps sitting here, within
the broken walls of a life
searching with some purpose for words
with which to give simple thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem