Healing
No longer stone, I am dust
Distempered by fire,
Crushed by oppressive weight.
When I settled here
In my quiet corner,
I had dreams of peace.
Not so- life...
Life is a plan undone
My unmarked face is now pocked and scarred
by fingers intent to Impress upon me their name.
Is not my sanctity equal to their own.
At what price closure comes,
And at the expense of whom.
The winds of time smooth me
And again, may sometime move me.
But for now I dream of peace-
And restful hope, my pillow.
No comments:
Post a Comment