PiHop

I wrote this poem while waiting in line for prophetic prayer at a local International House of Prayer last night:

The strangest waiting room I'VE ever known.
I mistake fervent prayer for animated conversation and spirit-filled tears for sadness.
My bad.
She's coming, she's coming!
No, not the "female version of God."
The number lady.
Oh! But they're only on number 17 and I'm 36...
I suppose I'll practice harmonizing.
Well I don't want to show no disrespect
To those having real moments.
I've just never.
Waited.
Quite like this before!