Thanksgiving Day Prayer
in gratitude for a culture of dominance
Thanksgiving Day Prayer
Today we bow our piggy faces down
toward thermoplastic tables to give
thanks for Massasoit, for dead father
Ousamequin.
We do this though we barely
have time for rituals.
Crispy manufactured beasts
of lost farms we slobber for
lay waiting among coupons
for dark Friday.
TV commercials
played at maximum capacity
do not allow for prayerful,
contemplative
minds.
On the way here, I tried recalling
the lilies of the field,
but the woods were no more —
in their place, a store
selling baskets
made of sweetgrass.
Still, we thank you,
Mother Gaia;
anyway, I thank you
for harvest times now and gone.
For your red children
cut from the cloth
of what is truly universal,
who welcomed our
bearded brethren
to the rocky shores
of New Plymouth Sound,
who offered their fish,
corn, and lobster
that the invaders
might be sustained long enough
to draw their cross-shaped dagger
to slice the entreating throats
of their young ones.
We have never yet seen
the meek inherit anything
but death.
Along those lines,
we thank you for this great
free nation, how
superb,
designed by criminals,
built by slaves,
run by sociopathic
degenerates.
We thank you for
whiskey and rattlesnakes.
For the mighty forked-tongued.
For the clean marketers. For
future
prospects.
For the infinite vacuum
of ghastly suburbia
planted
on still sacred earth.
We thank you for distractions
which extract the time
and desire required
to think or act.
We would be so angry,
so organized and mobilized
if not for cell phones.
We only ask
that you keep us
asleep.
I'm not American but this hits home
I'm grateful that you shared this timely (and powerful) Thanksgiving Day prayer. So many good lines, but these will stay with me,
On the way here, I tried recalling
the lilies of the field,
but the woods were no more—
in their place, a store
selling baskets
made of sweetgrass.
Still, we thank you,
Mother Gaia;