Rising

Thee prayer rises on the wind, drifting in the air

taken by the breeze to Your ear.

Hold all of the broken pieces gently,

let none feel the loss of their own

sacred story.  In retelling pain, betrayal,

wounds of what one has done to another.

Allow the healing to begin.  Let it be

bound in care and honor of truth.

Let us be able to hear and admit our

wrong in the act of forcing power and

control over another human being.

Something which never produces honor

and always makes scars too deeply etched

on all our memories.  Hold the smoke as

gently as the wind which blows it Your way.

Binding us together in the human family.