Prayer

(after Ellen Bass)

Once I thought the answer 
to every request was mine to fulfill. 
All the sermons I ever heard in this 
lifetime held the words others before self 
and give. But I grow tired of the smaller 
serving, the 24-hour hotline. 
It's a long time since I dressed 
sheerly for the way fabric felt on my skin,
the way it wrapped my body. 
I want to stop justifying this need 
for solitude and not speaking, not trying
to mend everything. I am reminded
that sleep is not a wastefulness of hours,
that I can ask for things for myself.