The Night I Learned How Not To Pray

I was laying on my belly in the middle of the living floor

I was watching Howdy Doody so I’m guessing it was right around four

When I saw my baby brother tumbling from the top of the stairs

He was lying limp and silent and the blood was trickling through his shiny

Hair

When my mom saw my little brother she said you better run and get your dad

And her voice was high and she was shaking so I knew that this was bad

Well we stood out at the mailbox watching her and dad and brother drive

Away

And I didn’t waste no time I got down on my knees right there and began to

Pray

Well I prayed into the evening, never even took the time to have a bite

I was sure if I prayed hard enough that God would make it right

We were at the kitchen table long past bedtime when we finally got that

Call

And I knew that it was over when my sister slammed that phone against the

Wall

That was the night I learned how not to pray

God does what God wants to any way

And I never did tell my mother, I kept it from my sisters and all my

Brothers

That was the night I learned how not to pray

It was 41 years later when I took my brothers picture out of a box

Hung it on the wall and sat across from him and I began to talk

When the evening started I didn’t know what I was going to say

But before the night was over I told them all about how I learned not to

Pray

That was the night I learned how not to pray

God does what God wants to any way

And I never did tell my mother, I kept it from my sisters and all my

Brothers

That was the night I learned how not to pray