Some Rooms are Prayers – a poem by James Lilliefors

Some Rooms are Prayers

The times they wanted me 
to think their thoughts
and I went on thinking 
mine. 

The times they expected me
to hear, to see, to remember 
a certain way, and I tried, 
but couldn’t.

Those times were rooms, 
where people lived 
and worked 
and worried, 
and loved and died. 

I am surprised sometimes
to hear late-at-night voices 
through open windows 
and realize those rooms 
are still out there. 
Voices carry 
answers to questions posed 
long ago, to prayers spoken
 – and not spoken – 
in those rooms. 
‘Let us befriend fear that we 
may know what it really is,’ 
they say. And I reply,  
‘Let us find the rooms that want us, 
and learn to live in them for a while.’

Some rooms are rivers, 
winding a way. Some rooms
are repositories, keepers of secrets. 
Some rooms are circles,
always returning.  
Some are sacred sanctuaries,
others stops in stations. 
Some rooms are prayers,
some prayers are rooms. 
No room is ours.

James Lilliefors is a poet, journalist, and novelist, whose writing has appeared in Door is a Jar, Salvation South, 3 Elements Review, Ploughshares, The Washington Post, The Miami Herald and elsewhere. His first collection of poetry will be published by Finishing Line Press. He’s a former writing fellow at the University of Virginia, and now lives in Florida.