The Three Prayers Aretha Franklin Whispered Backstage — And the Last One That Brought Her to Tears

Aretha Franklin was more than a voice. She was presence. Spirit. Testimony. To the world, she was The Queen of Soul, commanding stages draped in fur, fire, and faith. But behind the curtain, away from the lights, she had a ritual few ever witnessed — three quiet prayers whispered before every performance, spoken not for the crowd, but for something much higher.

A longtime backup singer recalls,

“She’d close her eyes, tilt her head slightly, and whisper so softly you could barely hear. But you could feel it in the air — the room changed when she prayed.”

Prayer One: “Thank You for the Gift.”

This always came first — gratitude before glory.

No matter the venue — from Detroit churches to presidential inaugurations — Aretha would bow her head and whisper:

“Thank you for the gift.”

After her vocal surgery in 2010, when doctors warned she might never sing the same way again, this prayer became even more sacred. She believed her voice was loaned, not owned.

“That voice was a loan from Heaven,” she once said. “Every time I use it, I give thanks first.”

Prayer Two: “Let Me Reach Just One.”

The second prayer wasn’t about fame or applause. It was about purpose.

“Let me reach just one.”

Aretha believed that if even one person left the room changed, lifted, healed — then she had done her job.

“If I can touch one soul,” she said, “the night was worth it.”

This is why her concerts felt less like performances and more like spiritual conversations. She didn’t just sing to the audience. She sang through something deeper.

Prayer Three: “Take Me There.”

This final prayer happened seconds before she stepped onto the stage. Eyes closed, hand on heart, she whispered:

“Take me there.”

No one ever asked her what “there” meant — they didn’t have to. You could see it in her eyes. There was the sacred place where voice becomes spirit, and music stops being performance and becomes communion.

The Final Time She Spoke It

At her last public performance in 2017, at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, she was visibly frail. Still, before touching the piano and singing “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman,” she whispered her final prayer.

A musician beside her recalls:

“She said, ‘Take me there’ — and then she paused… and whispered again, through tears — ‘I’m already there.’”

A Legacy Rooted in Prayer, Not Applause

Aretha once said:

“I sang for God before I ever sang for the world.”

Those three prayers — gratitude, connection, transcendence — were the foundation beneath every note she ever released into the world.

And maybe that is why her voice still moves people long after the final curtain:

She didn’t just sing music.
She prayed it.