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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Philosophy · #970139
Personification is a given. Of course my dog can talk.
Dog Prayers




One night with my dog
I shared a cooked chicken.
When preparing it
I knew of his pending
Excitement and pleasure.
I asked him,
"How do you pray?"

His eyes shone in knowing
His tail gave a wag
With the wind of wonderment.

"Bless us, Oh Lord,
For these Thy gifts,
Which we are about to receive
From thy bounty
Through Christ Our Lord.
Amen."


"No," I told him.
"You can't use my prayer.
I want to hear it from your heart,
Not words recited so long
That they have lost any meaning."

We ate our chicken separately,
Mine on the plate at the table,
His, out of his kitchen bowl
And onto the living room carpet.

His satisfaction was evident
From the crackling of bones,
The lick, the chomping of jaws.
With the meal so quickly gone.

Sigh.
I should train him better.
He always does that though.
He lays in the center of the house.
It's the center of everything.
He can eat, and watch
Four directions for predators
Vying for his food.
Animals have instinct.
Dogs are dogs.
He has his own sense.
He has his own prayer.

I rinsed off my plate,
Washed my hands,
And again encountered my companion.

He touched me with his cold, wet nose.
He wagged his tail widely, with a sweep.
Accepted some love
And petting from me.
Then went about his way.

He never fails to find me.
To give me a canine lick,
His expression of affection,
His gratitude with reflections,
Always being there,
To care and share,
Doggedly loyal.

I wondered,
"Am I that consistent
With my prayers to God?"

I regret that I am not.

Shall I humble myself
Like a dog,
Hide my face in shame?
Looking down
Eyes averted in submission
Like a dog.

Truthfully, not in this
Circle of comprehension.

He is more loyal than any dog,
So full of love,
Abundance,
And The meaning of life.

It is no coincidence that God
Is dog spelled backward.
Being dyslexic,
I got it easily.
It's remembering that's hard.

How can I say to my God,
What my dog says to me?
I can't use his words,
Requires originality.

Make every moment
A prayer of life,
Rather than reciting
A life of rote prayer.

Something for me to remember.

© Copyright 2005 a Sunflower in Texas (patrice at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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