This One Grace

As in every hellish waking with shaking shriekings of the dead wherein no aid can force silence- there is but one prayer left to beg As in midnights bathed in panic drowned in raw imagined pains where the darkness steals all virtue- soon one thought alone remains As in wretched hordes of victims weeping fresh from sins renewed beseeching, urging “Why, God? Why?”- one solace can be hewed: Let me be the reaching hand Strong through storm and fire Let me be that loving look When their true need is dire Let me be the single stand Let me be the constant friend Let me be the rooted hold Of kindness to the end. Let me be the word of hope In that one time and place This I beg of you, my God Let me have this one grace.