Hour of My Birth

A Poem With Commentary

Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash

I eat peanuts
and pray that
I will find
a way through
the weeds and rubble.
God nibbles on
a tuna sandwich
and laughs at
my silly jokes.
I do not want
to fail Him
in His time
of great need.
His memory is
full of holes
and His heart
may give up.
I sip water
and remember
the hour of my birth.