A Prayerful Reflection on America

A Prayerful Reflection on America 

 

Across the wide and wondrous landscapes of America—where sunrise warms the golden plains and sunset bathes the Pacific coast in quiet glory—stands a nation woven from dreams and determination. From the towering magnificence of the Grand Canyon to the vibrant pulse of New York City, from the peaks of the Rockies to the blue hills of "Almost Heaven" West Virginia, every corner of this land echoes with stories of grit, grace, and growth.

 

In the heartland, amber waves of grain whisper the legacy of hardworking hands and enduring hope. In the hollers and hilltops of Appalachia, hymns rise like morning mist, carrying generations of prayerful longing. The spirit of jazz floating through New Orleans, the resilience etched into Chicago’s skyline, and the timeless peace of the Shenandoah Valley—these are more than places. They are prayers in motion, asking for mercy, for unity, for renewal.

 

Today, I lift my voice not just to praise this great country, but to pray for it.

 

May we be a people who choose compassion over division. 

May our leaders seek wisdom that transcends politics and humbly serves the common good. 

May our classrooms teach truth, our pulpits preach courage, and our streets echo with the sound of reconciliation.

 

God, bless our veterans who stood firm in the storms of battle. 

Bless our families who strive and sacrifice. 

Bless our children, that they may grow with both faith and freedom beneath their feet.

 

Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream. 

Let love be our law and kindness our creed.

 

From sea to shining sea, America is more than a place—it is a promise. 

A promise kept through struggle. Strengthened in diversity. And sanctified in the prayers of its people.

 

So tonight, as stars scatter across the velvet sky and fireflies flicker in the fields of West Virginia, I pray not only for what this nation is—but for what it still can become. 

A land led by grace. 

Guarded by truth. 

Lifted by faith. 

United in hope.

 

Amen.

 

Susan Barker Nikitenko July 2, 2025©MpNMPMRMPBKBABRODANNABENFB$$#

Poetry And Other Materials On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian-centered non-profit Ministries And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At "treasurebox18@yahoo.com." All my poems with stories are both real and fictional, designed to illustrate a biblical truth. All Rights Reserved. Please Include the Site Name And Link Back To This Blog. Thank-You. Images are not all Christian, but they are included here to promote good works of faith, family, and country.

Profit of Dust: Exploitation Dramatic Reading

“Profit of Dust"

*A dramatic poem on power, exploitation, and divine justice*

**[Voice soft, bitter at first—then rising with gravity]**  

They were born—not held,  

Not sung to sleep by a mother’s breath,  

But summoned in silence,  

Arrayed under glass,  

Named not in love,  

But in ledger.

**[Voice sharper now, with mournful urgency]**  

Hands untouched by grace,  

Hearts unsheltered from purpose—  

Children molded for markets,  

Measured by worth,  

Not wonder.  

They are not mistakes.  

They are mirrors—  

Reflecting what we chose not to feel.

**[Pause. Breath. Lower tone.]**  

This is not medicine.  

This is not miracle.  

This is man’s ambition,  

Grinning behind a lab coat.

**[Building intensity]**  

What began in light now swells in shadow.  

What was called “creation”  

Has become collection—  

Of limbs, of labor,  

Of silence.

**[Powerful beat]**  

Like Nineveh,  

We stood tall on towers of trade  

And forgot that Heaven listens.  

We mocked the womb,  

Mocked mercy,  

Mocked the memory of motherhood—  

And called it progress.

**[Soft, almost broken:]**  

But the heavens do not forget.  

They have counted the jars.  

They have heard the breathless cries.  

They have not been silenced  

By silicon prayers  

Or profit margins.

**[Rising—urgent now]**  

The blood of the innocent  

Is not silent!  

It thunders from the soil  

Like Abel’s echo  

And fills the books of judgment  

With names no man remembers  

But God does.

**[Final lines—firm and slow]**  

There will come a fire  

That no science shall tame.  

There will come a reckoning  

Where the children will stand,  

Not as slaves,  

But as witnesses.

And the Lord shall ask:  

*"What did you make…  

when you called yourself creator?"*

Profit from Dust 

  A poem of hope and holy transformation

They said it was over—just ashes and stone, A field full of silence, a garden ungrown. But God knelt low in the shadowed crust, And whispered, “Watch… I profit from dust.”

Where others saw failure, He planted His seed, In dirt stained with sorrow, in moments of need. He shaped new life from broken ground, Where only dry bones once were found.

The world passed by with mocking frowns, But Heaven builds without their crowns. A breath, a spark, a Spirit thrust— Creation sings: He profits from dust.

Not gold, not fame, not flawless pride, But mercy poured from wounds once wide. So when you fall or feel unused, Remember: dust is what God will choose.

Susan Barker Nikitenko June 21, 2025©  MPMBCopNatMRochMPbKbAbBB hgf

Poetry And Other Materials On This Site Can Be Freely Used For Christian Bible Centered Non-Profit Ministries And must Remain Unchanged In Any Way. All Other Purposes Are With Permission Only. You May Make Requests At "treasurebox18@yahoo.com" All my poems with stories are both real and fictional designed to illustrate a biblical truth. All Rights Reserved. Please Include Site Name And Link Back To This Blog. Thank-You.Images are not all Christian, but put here for the purposes of doing good works of faith, family and country.