AN INVITATION TO PRAY

-
The softest way to land a prayer...give thanks.

Thank you world for being big enough to hold us all
Thank you time for endlessly cycling and handing me another moment to get it right
Thank you consciousness for waiting patiently when I struggle to wake up
Thank you anger for showing me which doors to close
Thank you clarity for showing me which doors to open
Thank you faith for guiding me in respect for otherness
Thank you truth for being so easy to see
Thank you opposition for reminding me who I am and who I am not
Thank you solace for revealing the goodness and the godness in me when I am scared
Thank you life for the beautiful song you are writing
Thank you voice, I am singing my way home

Love, Caro

© Caro Marr

Comments

Anonymous said…
I’ll never say I don’t have a prayer. You are my prayer.
April 3, 2026 at 9:14 AM
Caro Kalb Marr said…
🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼
April 3, 2026 at 10:51 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

FROM SOMETHING BROKEN, SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL for Gabe

-
Image
As the relative order of life continues to dismantle itself, I reach for calm. I look for anything that will breach the discomfort. An idea, a loved one, a poem, a painting, a song. This morning I reached out to our children. Just a text, "Checking in. Are you ok?" I heard from both. That helped. Later in the day I received a text from our son. He had been digesting the reality of bombs dropping far away, but not so far away. The desperate logic of wrong thinkers in the middle of a meltdown. String-pullers in high offices setting the world on fire for their own agendas. Not mine. Not yours. Here are his words: "Hadn’t seen the news yet when we spoke earlier- been thinking about it most of today while doing chores. I said this to dad but I think this is (mostly) the america weve always lived in, not to say it’s okay- but to say we know so much more now, so in some weird way maybe finding ways to use our voices is the opportunity to grow into the myth of Americ...
Read more

DEAR LEONID...

-
Image
  I remember everything. But the most brilliant thing I recall are five words that you said to me. I thought I understood them back in 1986 and I suppose I did; as well as I could at the time. But last night I heard you saying them over and over again in while looking at a picture of a man who stormed the Capital. He wore a black t-shirt with an image of the Nazi Skull and the words "Camp Auschwitz". And I heard you. All these years later I still hear you and the five words you said. Kenny DiCamillo introduced us to one another in his office on the 30th floor of the MGM building. home of the Rock Department at The William Morris Agency. We both worked there. We were in our twenties. Your thick Russian accent and warm 'challo' was unexpected. We clicked and became good friends. You were a Soviet Jew. I was an American Jew of Russian descent. You were here, with us, in the United States after having made a dangerous journey out of Russia, through Soviet Georgia, and int...
Read more

THERE'S A HOLE IN THE BUCKET

-
Image
I can't remember exactly when I landed on this idea, but it happened. Before waking up to it I felt stuck in the notion that this all has to mean something. That our time should be laser focused on distilling whatever that is down to a pinpoint of dutiful and intentional purpose. What an exhausting thread to pull. The constant unraveling felt like a total mind mess. The problem with this particular agenda was that it implied I wanted to be special, to stand out, to be noticed. I can admit to this and something tells me I'm not alone... So, if we are all just waves on the same ocean, constantly crashing into each other before we make landfall and then disappear forever, where is the connective tissue? In this mindset their wasn't any. But, if we can admit that it feels scary and a little insane for a life to come and go mostly quietly, then we are more the same than not. Some of us just land louder, for better or for worse. The truth is there's a hole in every bucke...
Read more