I raise my face to the sunlight

it is late and I am praying 

for all of the things that I want to happen 

I want the earth to grow kindness like trees 

like fruit 

I want children to breathe easily 

and I want the hands of the devils 

to fall away from their tiny throats 

I want the rain to wash away the blood 

from the hands of the killers 

I want every stomach to be full 

and all people to be protected 

by a roof and walls 

I want peace to cover 

the temple of our collective soul 

like a shawl covers the head 

of a grandmother at mass 

I want my arms to grow long enough 

to embrace the suffering of this world 

I want to ease the pain 

that rules so many haunted lives 

and I pray for peace 

hear my prayer 

please 

hear my prayer 

__________

white american billionaires want to build a new disneyland in afghanistan

the rides will be run by the bodies of the war dead

white american billionaires want to open a thousand starbucks in iraq

the bodies of the war dead will be the baristas    brewing coffee

white american billionaires want to resurrect sears roebuck 

the ringling brothers circus and the draft    they have the cash to do it

and your right to vote    your right to choose to not be pregnant 

your right to an education    the white american billionaires don’t care

it’s up to you and me to care

__________

Silence, like a frail child lacking love, needs to be nurtured. A young oak tree, chest high, whispers a thank you to the soil, to the sun and the water. The air is moving, but far too softly to make a sound. I raise my face to the sunlight, thinking, “I have love in my life. I offer my thanks.” Something moves in the old leaf pile, swift and sudden, but I cannot see what it is.

james lee jobe

Thanks for reading this!