Praying in the Bathroom
Brandon Cook
I like to pray in the bathroom
When I shower or run the water
Or make of it the necessary room it is
It’s not a sacred space
Though of course we learn that every space is sanctuary
Everything a burning bush
It’s just that
With my hair askance from sleep
My indefatigable cowlick defiant
And my body bulging with new creases
Showing its age as I sit or stand or wash
It seems so much easier to say, with Abram,
“Here am I
And yes, I have nothing figured out
Not today, tomorrow, or yesterday”
And I have learned to say that it’s all okay
And that heaven then unfurls all around me
Weightless in my unclenched fists
These words—“Here I am”
Make it so much easier to pray
Make it possible, perhaps,
Since prayer’s prerequisite is dropping pretense
And becoming honest
Standing in our nakedness