Woman of Prayer

If I was a woman of prayer
Black robed and pious -
I wouldn’t mind deep lines
Folding under my eyes
Or veins snaking over my hands
I’d covet them as stigmata of god
And age wouldn’t matter

If I was a woman of prayer
I’d sit in the sanctuary
Listen as wax dripped softly from
Petitioner’s candles upon the stone floor
Find perfect solace in meditation and
Comfort in my hard pew
And time wouldn’t matter

If I was a woman of prayer
I ‘d make my pilgrimage
Crawl on bruised knees
The saintly path
Filled only with rapture
I’d plead, Thy Will Be Done
And pain wouldn’t matter

If I was a woman of prayer
I’d light incense; see none but
A savior’s face in its fragrant smoke
Fill the bronze bowl with holy water;
Absolve all who asked it
And sin wouldn’t matter

If I was a woman of prayer
I would forgive you