Wonder

You ever stop to wonder what it is you’re praying to?

If God is actually a little elf in the sky, collecting prayers like post it notes, selecting the ones to answer by throwing darts while blindfolded and hope that it’s nothing they promised not to do, like curing world hunger…

I do, all the time.

I wonder and imagine and try my hardest to paint the plain of God’s face with my fingertips

And get nothing.

Nothing but a dark sky with a gathering of stars for a face.

Do you think that’s omnipotence? Or laziness

Because if we really were made in their image, what if God just really doesn’t fucking feel like it?

If they bob and weave and dodge those prayers because answering them just takes too much energy.

They created us and suddenly, we’re too much.

Those prayers have to be going somewhere.

Because I refuse to believe that we are really this lonely.

That there is nothing, and no one higher in power than this blemish of humanity in a timeline we created.

Do you think they just vanish? Eroding like pennies at the bottom of a wishing well.

How far do you think prayers travel? Are they shot like arrows, bending the breeze to catch their target unaware? Falling back slowly as they meet resistance.

Maybe only some prayers make it to God, or maybe they die in the sky, suffocated by the atmosphere, set aflame and snuffed out all at once, never having reached their intended destination.

Is there anyone actually listening? Do they find our suffering funny? I can almost hear a teenage group of deities, giggling.

But they got to go somewhere right? Like whispers on the wind.