This pillar of Hercules
is an unthinking, unfeeling piece of rock
with no choice but to hold its ground
and jut its granite neck out to ships
proud that so many have canonized it
as the symbol of strength and fortitude and stability.
You stare at this rock
with your decades of service
to a world that has taken from you
your time, your good will, your money
your extra effort when no one was looking
And you quietly pass
with your hands in your pockets
Instead of holding, or being held in content.
I have done that, you say.
I am that, even with a choice not to be.