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Personal Prayers

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Prayers and Poems

The Light We Make

Touch My Eyes Again

Prayers in Passing

The Thinnest Season
Let Me Bless the Borrowed Ride
The Great Litany
C Train To the Temple
If God answered my recent complaint as he had that of Jeremiah





I’ve long admired Bishop Hughes’ gift for praying aloud — words rising without script, rooted in spirit. Wanting to build that same fluency, I’ve made it a quiet practice of my own: writing prayers, several times a week, for over a year now.

Each one begins the same way:
A 5"x7" index card,
a manual typewriter,
three minutes on the clock.




I write without stopping, without editing — just letting the prayer come as it will. The urge to revise is strong, but it waits. Afterward, I mark the page in red pencil, gently shaping what arrived in haste.

Over time, I’ve grown steadier in both prayer and keystroke. I once shared them publicly, but it began to feel like exposing something not quite ready. These prayers are shifting now — becoming less performance, more pilgrimage.

I think they may want to be a chapbook someday. For now, they’re a private liturgy, a practice in trust, and a conversation still unfolding.







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