After the votes are cast,
I will find a quiet place
a naive prayer.
A prayer of peace.
A prayer of love, remembered,
whether it was true, or not.
A prayer of broken souls mattering
to give small portions of ourselves away
and to do so
A prayer that we remember that differences
are not the same as division,
and that there are things that bind us
and make us stronger,
but only if we allow them.
I will pray thanks,
for the hate, for all its rancor
has made me stronger
than I would like to be, more immune
to those who would paint my whole soul
with the color of a single thought,
real or imagined,
of what and who I am.
I will pray thanks
for the clarity hate forced on me in this loud season
I will pray for healing.
For remembering the best of us.
For hope, realized.
A naive prayer, I admit.
A childlike prayer, however,
is all I have.
About this poem.
Go vote today. And a prayer before and after would be a good idea.