Prayer

Death knows nothing of justice,

yet I say you deserve better.

Not only because you served

and aided and loved,

and made me laugh, and not only

because you are young.

Slow and alone is the cruelty of Covid.

If doom grinds and plods,

if cancer slowly wracks,

the beloved are at the bedside,

but not now. Not for you.

You should not die alone.

You, lunching with friends,

you running in the sun,

you carrying the child they

will not let you see,

you tall and unafraid,

you guiding children’s lives

like you were born to do.

I wish I had known you more.

I wish I’d done more to earn this grief.

I wish you small mercies,

another card, more flowers.

I pray you get to laugh.

I pray you see your son.

I pray you pass in peace

and rise to wherever we go,

and God meets you there

and holds you and says,

“Your story ended wrong,

and I will rewrite it.”