Apparently, it’s National Poetry Writing Month in the USA. I know this because fellow Crooked Cat author and recent visitor to this page Jennifer Wilson has taken it as a cue to post a poem on her blog every day for the whole month (see the one I reblogged earlier today – and check out Jen’s blog for more of them).
I’m not going to go quite that far, but this seems more than enough excuse to stick a poem of my own on here (just the one, probably, for now). So here goes …
Behind the Stone
Upon the stone face of the world
the laughter of trees; the scars
of the battles of sun and snow.
Behind the stone, the graves of lost streams
and printed in rock, the fish of a swallowed sea:
locked in the ripples of time,
the clock of a billion years.
Upon the stone face of an old man
the scars of a war, the lines
etched in channels of childhood tears.
Behind the stone, the dreams of a boy,
the loves of a youth, the dull pain of slow decline:
a mind still clutching the joy
and the sadness of eighty years.
Out of grey eyes the old man is watching.
The face of the world still smiles and grows.
The treasures he holds so tightly for now
the stone will keep for ever.