Prayer by Anna Lena Phillips Bell
"let me have thrown my knives at the hay bale, all of them"
Prayer
Lord, when my mind goes, let me have disposed of most of my secrets, let me have used up my lust in good-natured rutting, let me have thrown my knives at the hay bale, all of them, so what comes is, if a surprise, not a terrible or even an insulting one to whoever I am lucky enough to be around
From Might Could, Waywiser Books, 2026. First published in Southwest Review, Volume 108.2
This poem feels like someone speaking honestly about the fear of losing themselves with age.
There’s something deeply relatable in wanting to tidy up your life before the mind starts slipping.
The line about throwing knives at a hay bale is funny, but it also says so much about wanting to do no harm.
I love how the poem admits to lust, secrets, and mistakes without pretending to be better than human.
It’s a gentle kind of self‑reckoning, the kind you do when no one is watching.
What really stays with me is the wish not to burden the people who’ll be there at the end.
It’s a small prayer, but it carries a lot of tenderness.
There’s no drama, just a quiet hope for kindness.
By the last line, you feel the speaker’s vulnerability and maybe a bit of your own.