As a teenager I grudging said grace
at every meal, by order of the staff
who made it. We never thought to refuse
to say the prayers on the grounds
that we had not the faith, or argue
against them on theological grounds.
Education was about being taught
how to agree with our superiors
without them openly warping our values.
Once they were gone I was alone.
When I ate I never raised my voice
in praise or in prayer about my food.
What prayers I had were silent
thanks, in gratitude at being alone
after too many failed instructions.
Now, as I bake for friends unasked
I pray for them as I prepare and mix,
and make my wish for them to be happy,
so they don't need me to prompt them.
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