I am but stone

I am but stone and relic, an emblem of life
A portrait of a forlorn woman perched on the verge of a cliff
Marbling in the sunshine,
Silently posing for time
Hand clasping hand as if holding onto some all elusive meaning.

I am but stone and totem
I cannot hold with these cold hands
I cannot see with these empty eyes
I cannot acquire warmth from nearness
I cannot keep any promises.

I am but stone, strong and solid
Undeterred and unmoved
Gripped and petrified from grief and sadness
I can only hope for a little madness
Better that than the fading blackness
Instead of stone, shaped and polished by the wind
Hanging precariously, subject to nature’s whims.

I am but stone, former woman
Unkept and rain stained
You cannot tell where my tears have been
Nor that I was once part of the living

I am but stone and relic
Stuck here on a verge
waiting for death.