For…

This is using the form of the poem Prayer in my boot by Naomi Shihab Nye which essentially uses the For… motive repetitively. I am an atheist so I’m not writing fors as prayers, I guess these are more my contemplations. 

For the breeze that caressed my face. For the shards of light from the rainbow prism that had fallen on my face. For the whispering among the leaves. For myself and others. For the bygone years, the birthdays celebrated with cakes on which laid candles that I could never blow out in one go; I don’t know how they ever did it on TV. For my palm which used to sweat so much. For my black lustrous hair that spilled down my back like a cascading waterfall. I wish. For my tomorrows that are yet to come, bubbles that are yet to form. For my wandering thoughts. 

For sunshine and rainfall. For light and darkness. For destiny and personal struggles, a stand to say I make my own fate. For apathy and compassion. For appreciation and indifference. For laughter and tears. For family and friends versus strangers and enemies. For the mind against the heart. For logic warring with emotions. For us versus them. For myself against the world. For the past I turned my back on versus the tomorrow I’ve yet to carve out for myself.