God of old women praying forever
fingers bent over quilts,
God of tired immigrants carrying trunks,
looking for the promised land
God of smooth-faced children
opening door after door into tomorrow
God of weary warriors, who want to go home
wondering who is friend and who is enemy
Hear our sighs too deep for words.
Hear our cries for justice.
Give us what we do not know we need.
Tell us our names.
~ Diane Roth (used with permission)