My Circle

Grieving over who I have been,
Fearing who I still am,
I asked a friend to pray.
“I am not a servant.”

And she laughed!
The best sort of laugh,
Not in mockery,
But in disbelief.

A laugh that said,
“Of all the possible reasons
I might have been asked to pray,
This is the last I expected.”

And she prayed!
The best sort of prayer,
That covers with grace
Human imperfection and heart hardness,

That speaks truth about who I am
And my place in my circle,
With knowledge of me
And my life, that reaches back years.