I come with the Grace
of all those I beseech, quietly.
In all names holy.

My work, done with love,
in prayerful attendance to life,
to acknowledge the birdsong
extolling the morning and
awakening the sun
in triumph over night.

Sending the mist
to dissipate over the Mount,
to nudge the sleeping sages
into activity,
to secure the earth’s roving
in this sea of tranquility.

I acknowledge my blessings
where I am, but I beg . . . . . . .

Extinguish the desires of old men
who miss their spoils of war,
and if allowed would set fire
to the hearts of the young
to do their bidding;
negating the work of mothers
who taught their children to love one another
from the first time a sibling
invaded their space.

I beg for lives to be spared
so families can sup together,
that children will again
have parents on the premises.
Begging you also
to hone the values
that would have us carrying one another.

I beg this beggar’s prayer
so that man who denies
his own godliness will one day see

the common ground of his divinity.