LXXXVI: Prayer

I went to heaven thinking I would find

the hosts of angels bowing to their Lord;

but found, instead, a place that was designed

for laughter and for games, and—my! it roared!

I couldn’t tell if I’d found the right place,

until I saw my Savior in the midst.

The pure, untethered joy upon his face

convinced me that my fears could be dismissed.

I asked him why, for all the world, I thought

that heaven was a sober place for prayer.

He said that it was backwards, what I’d got:

that prayer should lift the heart—not leave it bare.

And suddenly I saw it once anew—

that joy is what a prayer’s supposed to do.