Pray without Words

What do I say when I pray?
Is it right
to say thanks
that I survived
when so many of them
are now corpses,
mere figures
in an escalating statistic?
It is just
to say
it’s a new day,
the sun is shining,
it’s a good thing,
when yesterday is still unfinished
last week still incomplete?
Do I marvel at
how blessed I am
that the tragedy passed over me,
sheltered child of God,
for aren’t they Your children too?
Do we count our blessings now,
when so many of them want
and so many of them need?
And what do I ask for
when I pray,
when I have more than I ever deserved:
a roof above my head,
my own clothes,
my loved ones close,
safe and well,
and anything more will be
spitting on the face
of those merely holding each other
for warmth
the tears not yet coming
trying to comprehend
the strength and speed
at which
everything was taken?

God,
I offer myself
in silence.
I have no words to tell You
I believe in You.
Listen to this prayer
that bears neither eloquence
nor understanding,
only a surrender.
You are everything
and I am nothing.