Stone

how is it to be a stone?
how is it to be hard
and unfeeling?

how is it to be still
and immobile
rooted in
its place for years
and centuries
not growing
not speaking not listening
to the songs and sighs
of the river?

how is it to be completely
defenseless against
the moss
that invades and
covers
your body
of stone

the coldness
of the rain and
the boredom of the time
in years, in centuries?

how is it to be just being
inanimate
unmoved
untouched and
untouching?

you
you touch no one and nobody touches you
an island
of stone
you
are the stone
the rock
against
the middle
of the raging river

and i am asking all these questions to you.

oh! i am always the foolish one
petrified
facing you all day and getting
no answers

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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