stand i here, skin as
stone, gray and cracked,
and freckled grime,
mossy lace draped abroad -
alone afront the wooded grove,
thick with spindly pine
and gnarl'd oak.
here i stood for centuries,
greeting passersby
with downturn grimace and
trident high.
my shadow reaching long
across the garden overrun
with wildling weeds and
critters creeping;
and as i loomed i dared
any foolheardy approach
and lay his hand upon your cheek.
four centuries i waited,
as sun and sunlit moon
cast incandesced arms
of ancient leaf
across the bridge of your nose,
your petrified gaze
ne'er leaving mine.
when a'sudden they came,
and they took you away -
and there i stood, frozen,
weak to move,
to cry out, to break,
such stone this shell
that encapsulates me
all my life,
long as i have known -
have eyes to see, have ears.
and sharp the realization,
as the base of your heel
churned black the soil beneath:
was i ever here to guard?
always prisoner,
bound and held by you.
a smile broke cross your lips,
shale crumbling round your eyes,
and it was then i knew
that ne'er were you stone,
not like me.