By James Strauss

It’s not that He doesn’t come,
It’s that He doesn’t come as requested.
The Lord’s therapy is one of action,
Come down to a world of muted reaction.

I ask him for things and resolutions,
But often forget about decent definition.
And so He comes in silent humor,
Answering hard like a whispered rumor.

I pray alone with no human preacher,
Belief in Him beyond that of man.
I ask to do my part in this one-act play,
His laugh in reply unheard as I pray.

Belief in Him is kind of new to me,
His being invisible and silent a problem.
It took years to stop wanting some comment,
Before finding his lips are sealed with cement.

But I watch close after asking and listen,
He won’t tell me or say not one word.
I still listen but now with eyes wide open,
For its action I know is what I’m hoping.

My cat and I kneel as all beggars must,
Asking in fervor is not a whole lot of trust,
His answer will come in His time and that’s that,
My hope dim but there, unlike that of my cat.