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Prayer of Thanksgiving
by louis gander The table, set with centerpiece, fine china, silverware - and food prepared deliciously with tender loving care - and hungry eye, I relish this - this meal, my daily bread - then fold my hands and bow my head before my prayer is said. I do recite it quick and slurred, but with the best intent - and now that grace is said and heard, it is a blessed event. The phrases I was taught to say were pressed down deep in me - but words are empty without thoughts of pure sincerity. Yes, just before we eat, we pray, but there's a place so crude which moves us closer to the truth - that others have no food. It haunts me as I look around, the visions of the starved - who wide-eyed blankly stare at me behind my turkey, carved. I see their bloated tummies and the flies around their eyes. I hear soft moans from babies lips, the echoes of their cries. I taste the mush that they call food. It lingers on my breath. I feel the tears start down my cheeks. I smell the stench of death. I hesitate with my first bite, I ask myself, "Do I really care they're teary eyed and hungry 'til they die?" I pray that all the "least of these" are eating well in Heav'n. Please help me Lord, to understand the blessings I was giv'n. So now when I recite my prayer, as I sit down to feast, I ask myself if I'm sincere and thankful in the least. For that's when I can hear my voice ascending to His ear. He knows if I speak empty words or if I am sincere. Copyright 2021 by louis gander. Poetry for sermons, story poems and more... If you love story poems, then you'll love ganderpoems.org / no ads, no sign-up, no tracking. Just free inspirational poetry. Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |