Someone Else's Prayer

The charger wasn't in the drawer,

but the Bible was, worn and small,

and I opened it like I was looking for

something, and found instead their call—

blue pen in the margins, desperate,

a prayer from three years back,

their need written out, evident,

someone's faith written over black

ink, and I read it like I was holding

someone's confession, their 3 a.m.,

and I didn't know who was telling

this story, didn't know them.

I don't know if God answered.

I put it back, didn't leave my own.