God, this weekend the storms
follow tornado alley,
my old home,
with winds and sudden twisters,
with hail that dents a trailer,
makes a hole in a thin asphalt roof.
I pray for the unsuspecting
from Texas to southern Minnesota,
for new planted fields,
and blooming fruit trees
in Nebraska and Kansas
and for tomorrow’s track of storms
through the Great Lakes,
and the new pressure system on Monday.
I pray for the little ones —
children near large windows,
dogs, spooked, all day under the bed,
cats thrown into the air,
livestock gathered into barns,
people who pull to the side of the road
and lie down in a ditch,
stores when the flat roof lifts off
and flies like a sail,
people in wheelchairs —
trying to get to the basement,
essential workers on the roads,
yes, and storm chasers, too.
I also pray for other states — Alabama,
Georgia, Ohio, Mississippi —
that generate almost atmospheric violence,
sending a twister
toward the Supreme Court,
heedless that the hail of such hatred
smashes the shelters of the poorest.
You who bring peace,
always to your children of small faith,
in a time of storms, I pray,
truly all of us pray,
for those we choose to believe
are the most vulnerable.