Last prayer

My grandmother was bold, beautiful and strong.

She raised my mother and all her sisters all alone.

She would tell me "No mountain will ever be too high."

And

"Keep your head to to the sky."

And on her very last day on earth, she clasp her hands and hung her head, praying.

She said a prayer, with so much power, so much passion, so heavy that it rocked your soul, and left you without the ability to even say Amen.

She cried "Lord save the people! They don't understand, yet. They're bathing in sin and are clueless of the streams you've made to wash it away. Save the people. The ones obsessed with riches and the ones without a penny to their name. Give them love. Hand them light. Show them mercy. Make them humble themselves. Dear lord save the people! Hide them from gold and protect them from dirt. Give my grandbabies and their grandbabies a way through this jungle of a world. I'm ready become one of your angels but lord, my children aren't ready. Heal their hearts when I'm gone, save them from depression, keep them strong. And if I go tonight, please excuse me for all my wrongs and except me into the kingdom of heaven. And let my last plea be, save the people. Amen."

My grandmother died that night. I was only a little lamb, unaware of what she meant, only knew of the power of which she spoke it. 

Now I know. Now every night I pray, "Lord save the people."