For the gladness here where the sun is shining at
evening on the weeds at the river,
Our prayer of thanks.

For the laughter of children who tumble barefooted and
bareheaded in the summer grass,
Our prayer of thanks.

For the sunset and the stars, the women and the white
arms that hold us,
Our prayer of thanks.

God,
If you are deaf and blind, if this is all lost to you,
God, if the dead in their coffins amid the silver handles
on the edge of town, or the reckless dead of war
days thrown unknown in pits, if these dead are
forever deaf and blind and lost,
Our prayer of thanks.

God,
The game is all your way, the secrets and the signals and
the system; and so for the break of the game and
the first play and the last.
Our prayer of thanks.

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2 Comments

  1. Payton says:

    I love this poem. It’s really personal to me, because it’s the perfect example of thanking God in everything. Not FOR everything mind you, but just thanking him no matter what. ^_^

  2. Laura Garcia says:

    I really love your poem hey ijust want to meeet you and want to know how you get to write the gooooooooooooooood poem

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