How Shall I pray?

How shall I pray?

Are tears prayers, Lord?

Are screams prayers,

        Or groans

                      Or sighs

                                  Or curses?

Can trembling hands be lifted to you,

        Or clenched fists

                                Or the cold sweat that trickled down my back

                                             Or the cramps that knot my stomach?

Will you accept my prayers, Lord,

      My real prayers,

                      rooted in the muck and mud and rock of my life,

and not just the pretty, cut-flower, gracefully arranged

 bouquet of words?

Will you accept me, Lord, as I really am,

                                                      messed up mixture of glory and grime?