prayer

I sometimes sit and wonder
About how God hears all our prayers
They must be shooting at him
A million at a time.
Could each individual voice be heard
Through this unruly tower of babel?

Does He sort through them
Like we sort through our stuffed inboxes
After returning from a month-long vacation?
Keeping the heavier, more consequential ones
About loved ones dying of cancer
Or battling addictions
And discarding others about
winning the lottery and elementary crushes?

Sometimes when I pray,
My words feel as faint as notes being played
on a miniature piano
-those kiddy ones with rainbow-colored keys
Getting lost in the dusty air.
A broken telegram that will never reach the hands
of its intended viewer.

And other times,
I imagine that my lightning words could somehow
Travel through the galaxy
Of heart-felt cries and drowsy murmurs,
Crystal clear like a bell
Ringing in the vast space of the heavens.