A Prayer: Part II

Dear Whoever’s Listening,

Hi again. Nice chatting with you, or I guess not with you, but at you at least. Anyway, yes, hi, I have some things to share since we last spoke. When last I raised my eyes toward the skies and made a post on the blog in your direction, I promised that I would never demand anything from you, and I plan to keep that promise. So with that in mind, let me reiterate something I pointed out last time–

I’m not a Prophet. I do not prophesy.

I have no idea what your divine plan might be or to what end I operate in the scheme of the celestial orbs through which we all float and exist and suffer and live. In this way I am nothing, no more than a speck in the great, unending whirlwind of existence you’ve created– I get that, and I appreciate that. However, and this is a big ‘however,’ I cannot begin to understand why I, despite my place as a speck, cannot seem to get your presence out of my pen.

I am not a Prophet. I do not prophesy.

Yet I am constantly bombarded with feelings, urges, impulses to put you into my work. In my latest play I have designed central characters, all of whom act within the bounds of my own everyday cosmic plane, but guiding them, haunting them, is The Malach– The Angel. Why is she there? Why did I have to include her? Why must she haunt my characters as you have haunted me?

I am not a Prophet. I do not prophesy.

I am not a Prophet. I do not prophesy.

I am not a Prophet. I do not prophesy.

The more I say it the weaker the words taste in my mouth, the less I trust them. Are not writers the modern Seers, the contemporary Prophets? If our job is to hold the mirror up to nature and enlighten the masses, then why the fuck shouldn’t we be called Prophets? Is that not, in fact, the definition of prophesying? How are Suzan-Lori Parks’, Tony Kushner’s, and Paula Vogel’s words any less important and prophetic now than were Moses’, Barnabas’, or Paul’s?

…

No answer?

…

I thought not.

I know this all sounds a bit far-fetched, and maybe I’m just spewing blasphemy into the void, but if I’m not, then how do I prophesy better? How do I use my words toward something, something meaningful and full of life, something holy?

…

More silence.

Got it.

I’ll get back to you soon.

Best,

Jack