Dear God,
This morning I held a mango in my hand. It came from Guatemala. It was soft like a human cheek. It was the color of sunrise.
I thought about the person who picked the mango.
Was it a man with two boys like me? Does he pick mangoes to help his family survive?
Was it a little girl like the little girls in my classroom at school? Does she pick mangoes to help her family live?
Who picked the mango?
May our lives go to help the person who picked the mango.
May our lives go to help all of your children, O God, especially to the ones who are the smallest and most forgotten in the world.
May your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.
Amen.
- Trevor Scott Barton, poems for a brown eyed girl, 2018
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