A Prayer for Children
We pray (and accept responsibility) for children
who sneak popsicles before supper
who erase holes in math workbooks
who can never find their shoe.
And we pray (and accept responsibility) for those
who stare at photographs from behind barbed wire
who can't bound down the street in a new pair of sneakers
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 (and accept responsibility) for children
who bring us sticky kisses and fistsful of dandelions
who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray (and accept responsibility) for those
who never get desserts
who have no safe blanket to drag behind them
who watch their parents watch them die
who can't find any bread to eat
who don't have any rooms to clean up
whose pictures aren't on anybody's dresser
whose monsters are real.
We pray (and accept responsibility) 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 and never rinse out the tub
who get visits from the tooth fairy
who don't like to be kissed in front of the car pool
who squirm in church and scream in the phone
whose tears sometimes we laugh at and whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray (and accept responsibility) for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime
who will eat anything
who have never seen a dentist
who aren't spoiled by anybody
who go to bed hungry, and cry themselves to sleep
who live and move, but have no being.
And we pray (and accept responsibility) for children who want to be carried
and for those who must,
for those we never give up on and for those
who don't get a second chance- for those we smother- and for those
who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.
(Adapted from Marian Wright Edelman)
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