I saw a fellow praying
by a sandwiched city church,
his eyes screwed up and swaying
on that sort-of parrot perch.
A comic picture, nearly,
he presented to me. Still
he kept mouthing on sincerely,
letting words in silence spill.
Through the smelly candlesmoke
I watched him, earnest, there,
and, reaching deep for habit, spoke
a prayer for his prayer:
Please see it have safe passage
from this clump of clay and sod
up through the spheres of heaven
to the crowded ear of God.
I can’t speak for ‘answered’…
maybe the wish is absurd,
but, for the sake of whatever is Good—
let it at least be heard.