Wake in every citizen today the unquenchable desire to vote.
Keep every voter safe and free from obstruction or intimidation.
Illuminate our vision that we may see beyond our small thoughts.
Place in our hearts the integrity of non-harming word and deed.
Protect our country from acts of hatred.
Unite us as our new leader emerges.
Unite us in an expansive vision of what could be,
that we may move forward with integrity, compassion, and grace.
Unite us in our patriotism.
God, bless America.
I Cannot Believe in That God Any More
that giant man with a biblical beard
looming in the sky
unhappy with my mistakes
sending me bad stuff.
The God I love
is a beach blanket
wild with orange and hot pink patterns
sheer enough for light and air
to drift through,
the kind of blanket
that catches in the sunny beach breeze,
flapping and bubbling,
the blanket I can’t wait to
smooth across the hot sand
and plunk my goofy bones down on
so that I can partake in the full menu
of blissful beach therapies:
sand, salt air, surf, sun, sleep.
On ordinary days, like today,
when God is not a beach blanket,
she picks up her knitting
and settles down next to me on the couch
so I can take a nap without worrying.
As I lose myself in the reverie
of the God/beach-blanket metaphor
and all its possibilities,
she loops her long hair behind her ear,
leans over, all pleased and all,
and kisses my forehead,
right on the third eye.
My second installment for National Poetry Month…
Some days there is no god.
Instead of wrestling with him,
and having to decide who won,
I just surrender.
Not to god, no.
It’s the whole idea of a god
I give up.
In the emptiness I breathe
freely, with relief
until I see at twilight a setting crescent moon
with the ghost of its full circle
luminescent on an indigo screen.
Then I find myself wondering
whom to thank.
Prayer Before a Big Decision
In this stormy stretch of winter,
as I ruminate on a pending decision,
may I see this time as a summer day,
the first day of summer, actually,
where I am the grassy field
and my mind is the open sky,
the trees are my hair,
the rabbits my thoughts
the birds other, freer thoughts,
and the clouds, they are ideas and messages from God
May the sky of my mind welcome
whatever litany of color, whatever font or weight,
whatever edge, hard
or soft, She may send
and me being a clod of warm earth,
may I be ever patient with myself,
as I am only beginning to learn to read
God grant me
the pause to spot the unusual
the whimsy to pick it up
and the insight to hold it as the answer to my unasked question.