I lift my eyes to the hills, and whisper a prayer to whatever might be listening.
For the Canadian town still burning from an oil train derailment, for the missing and the homeless and the dead.
For the commercial aircraft that crashed in California, for the missing and the injured and the dead.
For the tenants in the apartment building down the hill that burned, struck by lightning this week, for the homeless and the suffering.
For those who suffer the unbearable heat in the western states, for those who flee – or fight – the wildfires there. For the missing and the homeless and the dead.
For all living beings who thirst for clean water.
For those who rage.
For those who despair.
For the suffering and the homeless and the dead, O Holy Mystery.
Let there be peace like cool, clean water.