A spoken word poem from the eyes of a teenage boy named Trent who finds himself in a fundamentalist Christian foster home.
When asked to say grace he goes on a tangent thanking the farmers & workers, the environment, and the source of life itself (water of course!).
What do you think? Would you thank a guys in the clouds with a gnarly beard? Or the sacred waters that sustain us and literally become our bloodstream?
Sorry, no records were found. Please adjust your search criteria and try again.
Sorry, unable to load the Maps API.