hear my prayer for the future that I will not see.
For all the children of my children’s grandchildren,
and all the others born when this century
is a long ago memory.
Let their feet touch this good earth,
let it still be good, growing green as it always grows.
Let their hands be reaching to connect,
not grasping, not fighting.
I want to pray that we would be beyond all that,
but I think that’s asking for too much.
Instead, I pray for what we have survived.
The upheavals I cannot imagine or name,
the suffering that is beyond speaking.
I pray that we could still be good,
still loving in the face of hatred,
still hoping in the face of despair,
I pray that we would be skilled at beginning again
even when it seems like the end of everything.
For you are with us.
Time can’t stop you from loving us.
Your everpresent ear takes this tiny message,
and transports it forward through the years.
My dear future friends:
Believe. Love. Cherish.
Look up at the distant stars
and say prayers for the future.
We pray together, you and I,
that hope will arrive in time.