Scattered Prayers

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This is for the man on the corner of First and Dunn

with a sign that breaks hearts and makes everybody run

home to their heaters and high-tech computers

and refrigerators stocked with genetically modified fruits and vegetables

tucked away in little containers.

And we complain about the price of gas and the policy ObamaCare

but he has holes in the soles of what’s left of his shoes

from walking everywhere.

This is a prayer for the man

on the corner of First and Dunn.

 

This is for the crying girl

in the last bathroom stall

and the family she goes home to

or should I say, the lack of family at all.

And right around five o’clock her mamma goes to work

and daddy breaks out the bottle

and right around five thirty she’ll pray that his fist

will miss her face and hit the wall.

This is a prayer for the crying girl

in the last bathroom stall.

 

This is for the mother sitting by a hospital bed

and the countless nights spent pacing and waiting

her crystal blue eyes become bloodshot red

and as she waits for the good news and the doctors come in,

her blue skies turn grey and the rain returns again.

This is a prayer for the mother sitting by a hospital bed.

 

This is for the majors and the minors

the ones dying of cancer

and the fathers protecting their daughters

and the daughters playing with fire

and the girls that love too much.

For the ones that get attached

and the ones with walls up.

For the soldiers in battle and the heroes with purple hearts

For the families who receive those knocks on the door

and the folded up flags.

For the ones whose futures are filling paper grocery bags,

or never moving past

“would you like fries with that?”

For the teens in long sleeves with the cuts on their wrists

and the patients whose symptoms are a mile long list.

For the ones that are looking for some kind of a god

and the ones that are trying to find something that can never be bought.

Sometimes we see only the bad in the world

But someone once told me that the only battle lost,

is a battle not fought.

And as long as we are breathing, there’s hope.

Things can still be new.

And for those who disbelieve that,

this is a prayer for you.

 

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