My parents were not very observant, and although they always belonged to a temple my father expressed consistent distrust of organized religion. Even so, they taught me to pray. Or Mom did, anyway.

She helped me memorize that childhood classic: “Now I lay me down to sleep/I pray the Lord my soul to keep/If I should die before I wake” … WHAT?! Die? Huh?

Those words were a little disturbing. Those thoughts were not sweet at bedtime. I didn’t want to think about dying as I crawled into bed in my pajamas.

I understand child brains are magical until about the age of 8. I see now why it was cruel to bring death and soul-taking into the bedtime conversation when I was very young.

Maybe that’s why I composed my own prayer. I was 10 by the time I did it, and I can’t recall reciting it after I wrote it. In fact, I didn’t recall writing it until I found it recently, in a tattered folder at the bottom of my footlocker.

It ain’t great, but it was my alternative to the prayer I was taught, and I hope it helped cure me of twisted syntax and affectation in my verse.

My Bedtime Prayer

Thank you God for my family,
Thank you for our health.
Thank you that we’re greedy not,
And spend wisely all our small wealth.

Thank you that in Peace we live,
That blood we do not shed.
Thank you for our clothing,
Our shelter, and our daily bread.
-Amen