A Prayer. Poem by James McLain

A prayer, that no ear seems to hear
as i walk through the blowing snow
and up each powdered step.
None pause to let me by.
Chafed my wrists and sore of back,
your lips are all i see.
Each face looks on away
and looking for a meal of lost concern.
For their shame in knowing why.
One will ask them how to blanche
this very paper in a book, none must read.
My love for her, each call, each tear,
i feel,
her all around, i see them arm in arm.
The lever by a mind thats dull and black
and when it's pulled.
My head,
rolls down their wooden ramp feeling more.
And cleans once muddied feet.
I stand alone before your bench, looking up
without a name.