Prickly Prayer

God, I have entered the irritation zone.

In the irritation zone,

conversations always rub me the wrong way,

nothing is where I left it,

everyone is being inconsiderate to me

and it is all taking too much time.

In the irritation zone,

my skin feels like its crawling,

my stomach is a tight ball,

my hands want to bang things

and my voice finds a sharp edge to every word.

In the irritation zone,

I can’t imagine myself in another place.

I am wrapped up in my own affairs,

I cannot stand the people I love

and I feel like I would rather do anything than pray.

In the irritation zone,

I can find only prickly prayers.

I pray for things to go my way,

I pray for you to fix what’s wrong

and I feel like a spoiled child.

In the irritation zone I expect you

to tell me to pull up my socks,

to quit being a whiner,

to think about someone else for a change,

to stop being such a loser.

A still small voice,

calm as a benediction:

“Eat something.

Get some sleep.

You’ll feel better tomorrow.”