I watched them during his prayer.
Unseen by him and by everyone

with closed eyes.  Ballet dancers,
they were sensitive–

grappling to communicate,
struggling with every ounce

of their life’s force, to convey
what they saw, grasped.

I tried to hold them once
when we were young

and I saw their vulnerability,
I wanted to comfort,

be with them.  It’s the voice
of the prophet

that captivates me,
that for which I aim.