Prayers for Chris

          Housekeeping--September 13

I am doing the thing I can do today.
I'm a dervish with vacuum and mop--
          no cobwebs,
                    no cat hair,
                              crisp sheets on the bed.
I'm waxing the woods,
          cutting flowers for the vase,
                   setting fruit in the bowl.

My prayers are in my hands today--
          in my back and my whining knees.
Because there are fires in far flung lands today,
          huge messes and tangles,
                    old wounds grown infected.
This day evil and hate are winning.
This day they encircle my son.

So I'm doing the thing that I can do today.
I'll turn off the TV--
          purge the talking heads
                    and their endless, mercenary blather.
It's all just too easy
          too caustic, too careless,
                    when their own sons sleep safe in their beds.
They will not muddle my prayers--
                              not today--
When prayers are all that will reach.

In that place far away
         where my heart is so trapped,
There is chaos and screaming and blood.
                    But not here.
Here, where my feet are stuck,
There must be order.
There must be peace.
There must be beauty.
          Today, in my own tiny circle,
                    things must be tidy.
Goodness must win.

I will pray with my dust cloth and broom today--
         because its the thing I can do.