Prayer in a time of tornadoes

In the last thirty days, O God,
there have been thirty dawns,
promising the possibilities of a day.
and thirty twilights,
longer and later and lighter
in my hemisphere,
singing me an overture to stars.

There were also thirty noons,
and I was hungry each time —
but I also know —
that some people ate only
twenty-two times,
or twelve or ten times, while others
enjoyed brunch, lunch, coffee break,
afterschool snack, cocktail hour.

In the last thirty days, O God,
people have stayed clean and sober,
maintained weight, completed rehab,
given birth, dressed for prom,
felt fresh sheets in a hospice bed,

and in the last thirty days,
five hundred tornadoes have swept
through the middle of this land,
spinning a funnel
of water, dust, debris,
and an aftermath of flood
while people hid in closets, basements,
shelters, reinforced centers of malls,
and the world watched.

God, the brush of network news
and the swipe of update
rush to the next story,
but I pray for your presence
in the human hands of compassion
morning, noon and night,
in all the stories of all the lives,

ongoing in all these places
where the tornadoes are coming down. amen.