It would be so much easier if I could find the root reveal this fear. But it is not one fear but many. Here, today, I find one. I fear I’ve lost the words. In the suddenness of this loss they fall even farther away. The only thing I really believe in my faith, the thing which holds me to hope, the power which I can call mine, my facility with language, draining out of me in a rush. I cannot call myself my own as I lose faith in my faith. I have balanced my self-respect and the whole weight of my future on my mind and I find myself helpless as it loses its purchase and begins the slide. I’ve fallen down this hill once or twice before and I simply don’t know if I can climb back up again. Prayers, surge out in a rash of silence, to a god who doesn’t hold the reins to my faith but the meaning behind them the need is no less for the lack of direction. Prayers not for the concrete the dollars and cars or the simplicity of strength but for the vagaries of life with love of words that don’t bleed white with loss of meaning not for utter sanity but for madness that will not utterly devour. I beg, without regard for dignity, the unthinking rush of time driving past my ears and driving me beyond any point I recognize. or might have thought to reach.