I am a sentinel
Poet of stone
Sitting apart
Sitting alone.
I do not twinkle
No star made of glass
I do not think
About things of the past.
I'm no wooden flute
Played with feeling and ease.
My breathing on earth
Has long ago ceased.
I'm no longer able
To hear, nor to talk
But when I move
YOU WILL HEAR ME WALK.
I'm not man or woman
I'm not boy or girl.
I no longer see
With the eyes of this world.
I cannot touch
And I cannot feel.
But I can exist
I assure you I'm real.
I am an island
a massive stone head.
An ossified remnant
Of the long-ago dead.
I haunt the gravestones
They draw me. They lure.
I am so like them
I will endure.
Yes, I'm a stone angel
Your flowers I see,
But I cannot smell them
For I cannot breathe.
Yes, those stone markers
A metaphor be.
Those silent stones
Are actually ME.
Soul Survivor
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC
I am a sentinel
Poet of stone
Sitting apart
Sitting alone.
I do not twinkle
No star made of glass
I do not think
About things of the past.
I'm no wooden flute
Played with feeling and ease.
My breathing on earth
Has long ago ceased.
I'm no longer able
To hear, nor to talk
But when I move
YOU WILL HEAR ME WALK.
I'm not man or woman
I'm not boy or girl.
I no longer see
With the eyes of this world.
I cannot touch
And I cannot feel.
But I can exist
I assure you I'm real.
I am an island
a massive stone head.
An ossified remnant
Of the long-ago dead.
I haunt the gravestones
They draw me. They lure.
I am so like them
I will endure.
Yes, I'm a stone angel
Your flowers I see,
But I cannot smell them
For I cannot breathe.
Yes, those stone markers
A metaphor be.
Those silent stones
Are actually ME.
Soul Survivor
