Insolent

I was told
never to pray for patience,
and in a fit of desperation,
of losing self-control,
I asked for just that.
And now I suffer
through long days
searching for some way
to unbind this prayer,
but I am chained
to the words my mouth spat out.
Waiting, like spit in open wounds,
painfully still while I ache to move
towards every desire
every lasting dream
my childhood heart contains.
My bones toss,
restless and unsatisfied,
held to the ground with
spiritual super glue--
I am a stagnant river.
Though my Father counts it virtuous,
I count it torturous.

Forgive me, my insolence.