The Statue of Mary

I drive Congress Street

Like a regular trail.

I see palms turned up

In a powdered-blue veil.

This woman leans forward

As if to appeal:

Lift this heavy stone

My arms are too frail.

Now she stares at the ground

With tears to conceal

In a world so uncaring

With no heart to reveal,

Going by just like me

Viewing her so surreal.

I wish I could stop,

In front of her kneel.

Push her gently back up

So her love could prevail.

With hands of a blessing

Less this minor detail.

If another has noticed

How she might feel,

I guess there is hope

For our planet to heal.