Without wisdom, prayer is not much.
Why? The thief, about to touch
His sister for a loan, could tell you,
Or something about the policy he wants to sell you.
I guess that’s why. I guess that’s why it matters
That this whole damned planet’s been ripped into tatters
And the prayers rise up like little strips of confetti
Bobbing up and down alongside the jetty.
Why pray? Why serve God? Wisdom, won’t you tell,
Before the words go scattering down the causeway into hell?
Restore the nature of my soul, please do,
The faithful strength, the resurgent dew..
Yaacov David Shulman