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David M. Higgins II is an award-winning journalist passionate about uncovering the truth and telling compelling stories. Born in Baltimore and raised in Southern Maryland, he has lived in several East... More by David M. Higgins II, Publisher/Editor
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In sincere consideration of the many starving souls worldwide for whom there’s nothing to be thankful on Thanksgiving Day—nor any other day of the year, for that matter—COVID-19 crisis or not, I wrote the following poem.
GRACE
Pass me the holiday turkey, peas
and the delicious stuffing flanked
by buttered potatoes with gravy
since I’ve said grace with plenty ease,
for the good food received I’ve thanked
my Maker who’s found me worthy.
It seems that unlike the many of those
in the unlucky Third World nation,
I’ve been found by God deserving
to not have to endure the awful woes
and the stomach wrenching starvation
suffered by them with no dinner serving.
Therefore hand over to me the corn
the cranberry sauce, fresh baked bread
since for my grub I’ve praised the Lord,
yet I need not hear about those born
whose meal I’ve been granted instead,
as they receive naught of the grand hoard.