Turn to Stone
.

Your weeping has rhythm,
thump,
thumping,
onto my chest.

If I had legs, I'd
bounce to your sorrow's beat,

the sound of many violins
as they splinter-shatter.

But I'm a cold stone,
a legless piece,

Just shiny,
angry,
taunting your cry.

I lie in
a pool of water,

only because
because
because

your mouth never closes.

Am I a mother,
circle of solid,
hard mass?

I want to fist your tremble,
shush you,
turn you to stone as I,
but your noise will never stop.

So, I rock
rock
rock
to your beat.

Thump, splash,
I roll away.

~

words: April Michelle Bratten, North Dakota (up the staircase)
image: Smitha Murthy (Life Wordsmith)

another blueprintreview stonification:
i am not made of stone