Do not worry

"Do not worry," he said,
as they labored over hot stoves,
chopping vegetables, baking pies,
roasting birds, pouring wine.
Will there be enough?
Will there be something for me,
vegetarian, without nuts, gluten free?
"Do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?'
or 'What shall we drink?'"

"Do not worry," he said,
as they arose before the sun,
filled their thermos with hot coffee,
bundled up, wallets ready,
off to the 4 am sales.
"Do not worry, saying, 'What shall we wear?'

"Do not worry," he said,
and all she knew was worry.
Her child was gay, Black, female,
Hispanic, poor, Muslim, hungry.
Face pressed against the glass,
watching them fill up with food and family.
"Do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?'
or 'What shall we drink?'"

"Do not worry," he said,
as he folded up his mat,
piled all his belongings into a single cart,
began the long walk to his corner,
set up his cardboard sign,
tugging at the holes in his mittens.
"Do not worry, saying, 'What shall we wear?'"

 "Do not worry," he said,
as they stood in the hangar,
awaiting the body of their only child,
too young to have seen the horrors of war,
the breath of life gone too soon from her lungs.
"Can any of you by worrying
add a single hour to your span of life?"

"Do not worry," he said.
Words that seem so empty,
so removed from all the fear,
the hunger, the heartache,
the hate, the death.
"Do not worry, for tomorrow will bring its own worries.
Today's trouble is enough for today."

Give us today our daily bread...
Forgive us our debts, our many, many debts.
Today, today is enough trouble.
Tomorrow is another day.
And then tomorrow's tomorrow,
an unknown number of tomorrows.
"Can any of you by worrying
add a single hour to your span of life?"

"Do not worry," he said.
Let today be today, a day for giving thanks,
and for sharing all that we have. Today.
"Do not worry," he said.
Tomorrow will take care of tomorrow.