Taste the Rock

I can still taste the rock;
Feel her bitter taste on my broken lips.
It was a dead end; a smooth barrier; a block,
No place for my slender fingers or swaying hips.
It took a strength I will never own,
A strength in both hand and mind,
To beat this barrier of broken stone.
And my efforts were futile I find.
I can still feel the wall.
Sharp as coral and twice as steep.
Gnarled as oak and twice as tall,
Face contorted as she weeps.
I feel her pain in my twisted feet,
As I rub the blood from my scarred hands.
She radiates a certainty, a slow heat,
A force that can turn boulders into sand.
And she waits, waits for us to try and beat her.
Watches as we sweat and struggle for no gain.
Throughout our slow toil she does not stir,
And when we leave, she is still much the same.