We pray in danger, because prayer is an endangered language—a language on the verge of extinction. The careless visible words, the resounding letters, all extinguished. Those that remain gather, weakened, for a call that could be the last and therefore is the last.
When we pray, we are in danger. We pray in misfortune, so as not to be annihilated by misfortune. We pray in hope, so that hope does not devour us. We pray in need, so that need does not strike us. We pray in supplication, because it is the abyss. We pray for you and all of you, when distance opens its jaws. We pray at night, to be spared by the day.
When we pray, we are in the most dangerous language. Every word, every letter, has been taken to the extreme. They have gone beyond the border; they have overcome our fences. They are in the innermost, where they have nothing more to lose, except us, the one praying.
Translation Joshua Kelberman
Image Miriam Wahl, ‹Was Goldmarie sich hinter die Ohren schrieb›, Gouache and acrylic on paper, 2023
