Praying on Sore Knees
by Daniel A. Scurek
Published on the Ancient Paths Facebook page on January 18, 2020
"Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees."
Where no one begs and none are near to hear of the gentle heart lost, from altars of vague interpretation my thoughts have pulled me here. I drop my stick and move my leg—my knee has not yet healed. I’ve dared all night to leave the sky; what if my limp becomes as soft as moss? If I drive away now, can I trust tribes’ walls that bear the same cross on houses of dissimilar skin? The wall is tall—I’ll trust He’s near, where no one begs and none are near to hear of the gentle heart lost.
I free my legs and run instead; I’ve limped for faith in dark exalt. Oh, Lord, let these passing thoughts mark the years wasted with dull tears ——and no final home——only one scattered prayer—and again I declare: forgive my diversity as I forgive Yours. I fled at cost— where no one begs and none are near to hear of the gentle heart lost.