Hunkered down at home
my mind reaches out
to friends, yes, but more so
to their parents, my parents—
that generation the younger
set so despises, so blames
for all our planet’s woes
as though every generation
hasn’t done something (many things)
they couldn’t see the end of
things they would take back if they could

as though their own generation
will never make mistakes

I think of the moms and dads
who fed me during sleepovers
who took me to plays
who coached me in summer-dry fields
who taught me that, yes, defeat may come
but that should never mean I didn’t try
every second of every game

I call them to mind, one by one
and pray for closed doors
for stocked pantries
for clear lungs

And I pray for that younger set as well
who live from paycheck to paycheck
who have small children at home
who just started a business
whose product just launched
whose education has stalled
whose future is uncertain

I call them to mind
and pray for patience
and perseverance
and peace

I especially pray
that we would all get off the internet
and find ways of being

really
truly
present