Please heal my heart wherever it needs healing.
It was a simple prayer,
not the kind you’d expect to have lightning bolts thrown at.
Nor the kind that begs for mercy
or the end to some horrific experience
that no being should ever be subject to.
It was just a simple prayer
quietly whispered into the space
of a languid afternoon.
There were no witnesses to this request,
not even the raised ear of a dog to note its mention.
Nor was this prayer a dwelling place,
like the one shouted daily to the heavens that began with
“Please God” and ended with “send me my soulmate”.
This was more like a slip of a prayer,
briefly stated before it fell off the prayer pile,
only to be quickly forgotten about.
And here it was,
just one week later,
when she inquired: “Do you like Vietnamese food?”
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