A Prayer Poem by James McLain

My prayer, is that no one hears
or sees my soiled pants.
as i walk through the blinding snow
and up each blood soaked step.
People crowed all around and such
they pause to let me by.
Chafed so tight and bound my wrists,
your lips,
i see are pink and fair,
each face looks on in thralled.
None asks, her why.
My love for her, stands tall, each fear,
i feel,
by all around.
i see them both huddled there,
calmly watching arm in arm.
When the wooden levers pulled.
The sun shines off the blade,
'Lord' this mind is dull
as it comes slowly down.
My head,
rolls down the wooden ramp,
and bloodies her clean feet.
i stood alone before the bench,
without a name,
hood covered in her shame.


s.t.