Pray it forward into daybreaks 
the inside color of cereal boxes 
opaque and dreary yet perfectly  
receptive to bills and scraps of hope 
once the sugary grains are gone. 

Pray it forward in line at Tim Hortons 
for a new dream to enter 
the fella behind 
that real food, real wages, and real Earth 
may all be served every time we order. 

Pray it forward seven generations 
down to the deepest tip of the iceberg 
that goes drag-netting the landfill 
bottom of a lifeless sea. 
Drudge up a ghost of a future 
kid or two to impress our frozen imaginations. 

Pray it forward on your knees 
and with devotion please 
your physiotherapist who spends 
days in bodies not her own 
inventing repeated motions of healing. 

Pray it forward. 
Pass it on. 
Remember every precious drop 
grasped by heart 
gets squeezed out beyond its keeping.