Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Disasters, Delights and Other Detours - 96. Stone Heart
The saint eternal in his niche
has lost the words to pray
through countless seasons now unscrolled
in sunny skies or grey,
nor does he know which month is which
though bees and birds might play
before his visage, hard and cold,
that lovers might dismay.
His robes no longer catch the breeze,
no sparkle glints his eye,
nor cheerful tune can pass those lips
since chipped in years gone by
and flashing smiles have ceased to tease
or arched brows mystify
that stone cold heart that too few keys
unlocked to laugh or sigh.
Yet what is marble once breathed in
The scented springtime air,
And in the green grass knew so well
a twinned love coupled there,
for such was blessing and no sin,
a gift most precious rare;
yet orthodoxy broke the spell
and trapped him in its snare.
What miracles he might have wrought
are unremembered now,
and lips that burned with kisses sweet
lie far beneath the plow;
for what affection might have bought
or yearning could avow,
a pinchbeck piety did cheat
to form his stony brow.
I'm ever grateful to @AC Benus for his input and encouragement with this and many other poems. Any reflection or comment you may have is always welcome.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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