First I prayed to be
like an empty glass
so that you might find me
and fill me.
Filled, I prayed
that I might
be emptied
so that you might
fill me again.
Emptied, I prayed
to stop praying—prayer
had become just
one more name
for wanting the world
to be other than it is.
One day it shattered,
this idea that you could
ever be contained,
that you were not already
the emptiness, the fullness,
the container itself.