Every night I pray

And look up at this ceiling of mine

I stare at the cracks in the wood

And a long dividing line

Every night I pray

To the Heavens beyond my roof

And whenever I am in doubt

These cracks serve as proof

Every night I realize

Two hands painted these walls

Together, with diligent strokes

Catching the paint as it falls

Every night I see

As my ceiling grows old and dry

The paint cracks, and chips, and falls

But still, beyond it is the sky

Every night I pray to these lines

And I pray that I can too

Provide my child with a roof and a ceiling

And some cracks to pray to  

If every day I awake

To a ceiling of beige or white

As long as there are cracks in my paint

I can rest my fight