A prayer

I thank your god for you,
Your clean, round face under a pink scarf,
Color of women's disease, caring and rebellion.
I thank your god for you,
A learned woman quietly dispensing knowledge and concern,
Ever more rare in a system parched of self-respect and calm.

I thank your god for you,
As you tell me in an Arabic accent that I won't feel the needle or the pain,
Dissolved in the stories of your family scattered across the continents by violence.
I thank your god for you,
As my blood flows toward your heart and into the vial,
You give me water, as though we had survived the desert together.

I thank your god for you,
As an old man who speaks the ancient tongue ignores our orderly queue of numbers,
You serve him across the counter with your sharp intelligence gleaming from your white silk scarf.
I thank your god for you,
And the connection between us, strong as the fibers of the river reeds, 
We'll never give up for the sake of the children.

​On visiting the doctor.