One thing I ask.[1]

And another thing: let my thyroid, please,

function with sufficient vigor, lest days

drift by without focus.  And if I catch

the flu this winter, may it not become

bronchitis.  Night coughing and codeine

keep me groggy all day long,

and the month of February disappears.

My children, may they live.  If they live,

they will survive, I’m sure.  Help us

to bear our losses, holes of grief,

never to be filled, God willing, the anger

misdirected, by us and at us,

the fear of getting involved, again.

May polar bears swim safely

to the ice flows, and may we love

our way back to soft tickling cheeks,

hot breath, moist lips

tasting like home, even though pleasure

is so inappropriate, given the state

of the planet.  Also may we notice that we

are visitors in God’s temple. 

It is no vacation.


[1] Psalms 27: 4.  Recited prior to the New Year, in the month of return and self-examination.