“My prayers for these stressful days
Have become sharpened. Unadorned.
A single word to the bereaved and
Wailing Mother God - mercy.
Two words to
The infant child God, on trial in
an unjust system--
Tender love. And for the God who
is not a
White, robed, bearded father, but
a migrant laborer
Daddy, with a red baseball cap,
who only cries
When he thinks no one can see,
not a word, but
A silent squeeze of his calloused
hand to telegraph
Reconciliation, wholeness. There
was a time when
More words brought comfort, but
now my heart
Wants most to be true. Ready for
resistance by
Unapologetic clarity and fueled
by moving toward
A future in which we have made
all of us free.
-Holy Quiet”