Pater Noster

Pater Noster
 
I’ve forgotten how I knew it was the night,
but approaching footsteps followed by a knock
told us he’d come, who turning left, then right,
would instruct our souls that could not fly, in flight.
 
The Pater Noster that we’d memorized,
he brought in a book to my brother’s bed,
and sitting on the wide rail that ran beside,
with each sentence he filled his head,
until the words took meaning in their tide.
 
And I was next who’d heard the broken prayer,
though I kept myself hidden from his point of view,
with maybe just a look or two
across to my brother and his sayer
who held in thought what I was now to do.
 
When the prayer was over and the text was closed,
from my walled in bed he rose,
ascended the stairs and shut the door,
more alone than ever before.

~ Bob Elmendorf