The Lost Prayers Poem by Francie Lynch

In my youth,
My sleek clean youth,
I was taught to pray.
Learn the right way,
Said men of cloth,
Said women of the Rag-
Tag convent home,
In rows, on knees, in suplication,
We prayed for days off Purgatory,
Babies, lost in Limbo;
Pray for starving
Blacks in Africa,
or
In Peru.

I prayed for you.
Beside my bed,
In my head,
For the Living,
For the Dead.
I prayed.
He delayed.
I prayed longer
For thirst and hunger.
I prayed harder,
Got no farther.
I saw little change.
Perhaps got worse,
Despite my prayers,
Or my curses.
Amen.