It is a forgotten rocky road
that turns and moves
random passerby
towards a side track
in their passing lives.

A place where
rocks eroded
and turned stone
into a strange
elongated face,
one that stares out at
the ocean and hills
that rise up around it.

I can imagine
how many broken hearts
were lost
to the salty ocean froth
and how many got brief relief
from seeing those Redwood trees
gathering like a loving family
on a picnic retreat.

How many caved and gave into
the cold foam-covered shore,
while others went on to explore more,
as their sorrows slowly lessened?

How many paths merged then diverged
as that strange stone sentinel observed
parallel worlds?

In one spot the writer takes
his rejection and heartache
then swims as far as he can
till he is too exhausted
to make it back to the shore.

On another path
he laughs.
His pain withering
as anger takes its place.
He chases that day’s hurt
with hard shots of fitness, art,
and self-education.

Just above the water she stands on a cliff,
concealing those feelings, she can’t deal with.
Then stepping off she drops to the bottom of it.
Despite the softness of wet sands
she does not rise to stand
only lays down as waves drown
her broken corpse.

On another road
she drives slow.
Then sits and waits
for the rain to abate,
stewing in depression and rage.
She talks to the man who was hurting her,
gives him what for,
and a little more.
Then heads home.
The burden not completely lifted
but the weight lightened
for those fleeting minutes.

The stone face does not change
merely wears a silent clown's frown
of curiosity
as it witnesses all these
shifting realities
of humanity.