A Prayer for the Children… by Ina J. Hughes
We
pray for the children
who
put chocolate fingers everywhere,
who
like to be tickled,
who
stomp in puddles and ruin their new pants,
who
sneak Popsicles before supper,
who
erase holes in math workbooks,
who
can never find their shoes.
And
we pray for those
who
stare at photographers from behind barbed wire,
who’ve
never squeaked across the floor in new sneakers,
who
never had crayons to count,
who
are born in places we wouldn’t be caught dead,
who
never go to the circus,
who
live in an X-rated world.
We
pray for children
who
bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who
sleep with the dog and bury goldfish,
who
give hugs in a hurry and forget their lunch money,
who
cover themselves with Band-Aids and sing off-key,
who
squeeze toothpaste all over the sink,
who
slurp their soup.
And
we pray for those
who
never get dessert,
who
watch their parents watch them die,
who
have no safe blanket to drag behind,
who
can’t find any bread to steal,
who
don’t have any rooms to clean up,
whose
pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser,
whose
monsters are real.
We
pray for children
who
spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who
throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who
like ghost stories,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed,
who
never rinse out the tub,
who
get visits from the tooth fairy,
who
don't like to be kissed in front of the school,
who
squirm in church or temple or mosque
and scream in the phone,
whose
tears we sometimes laugh at and
whose smiles can make us cry.
And
we pray for those
whose
nightmares come in the daytime,
who
will eat anything,
who
aren't spoiled by anybody,
who
go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who
live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children who want to be carried,
and for those who must.
For
those we never give up on,
and
for those who never get a chance.
For
those we smother with our love,
and
for those who will grab the hand of anybody
kind enough to offer it.