God, now are all my carols quiet,
and there is only the sound of Rachel’s tears.
I pray for these children,
for whom there are already
gifts hidden they will not unwrap,
who will never grow so old
they can’t hear the Polar Express bell,
for their parents and friends,
sisters and brothers,
whose lives are forever changed,
for the adults who died
and those who loved them,
for teachers everywhere
ashamed to say how afraid they are,
for the boy in his illness
we gave guns like they were toys,
for all who are un-Christmased.
We refuse to be consoled, O God,
because they are no more.
Warn us in our dreams and wakings
to gather all holy children
and find for them a place of safety.