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I readied myself for my morning prayers, as is my custom,
and as I searched the bookshelf of words for what to say,
I found the shelf empty...
empty as the pill bottles
in the hospitals and pharmacies of Somalia.
Standing there, feeling lost,
I thought of those who can't feel at all.
My soul was numb.
Then, through babbling sighs, I said,
"O You, who are All in All,
when our eyes are blinded by the smoke of terror, restore our sight.
When our mouths can only spit blood, give us new and tender lips.
When we forget the power of a hug, embrace us.
When our hands are dripping with blood, wipe them off and cleanse them.
When our legs have been mutilated by hatred, lend us Your strong legs.
When our hearts beat wildly with anguish and despair, give us serenity.
When our words become empty and meaningless, fill us with Your Word.
When death is knocking at the door, show us a glimpse of eternity with You.
And because without these gifts our hope will be nearly gone, show us the immensity of Your love."
(Prayer for the Somali people written by Rev. Luiz Carlos Ramos, Methodist pastor from Brazil, October 2017
Translation: John Thornburg)