Invisible Stone

Sunday Scribbling #250: invisible

I feel
like two people.
One goes through the
day, doing the daily things,
all the things that make me
look like everyone else…
and how they have so
very little meaning,
trying to find one
moment each day,a purpose
to make sleep restful

The other me watches…
watches all and wonders
if this skin can hold me.
Is there something
curled deep inside
invisible that needs
to come out?
Am I the stone that the
sculptor works to uncover
what is waiting to be seen?
Or is it just cold marble
fearing the hammer blows
that could shatter into
millions of tiny jagged pieces.
Who wields the hammer?

Do I choose or is the choice
made for me?
I hear music but am I
a singer?
I want to dance but do
I understand the meaning
of the steps?
Will my grandchildren come
on Sundays to plait my white hair
or will I languish in drool
cared for by minimum waged
strangers who wonder
who I was (if they stop long
enough to care)?

Will you remember something
I said that time and wonder
what did she mean?
Do I know secrets that I hold
close and hint at because
the soul is a deep place
or will you shake your head
and say “what a waste”?
Will I rest under green grass
feeling sun warmth?
Will a bird light on the stone
and sing to me?
I wrap my chilled arms around
myself and look out into the dark.
I know I am here.  I see my
reflection in the glass.

7 thoughts on “Invisible Stone

  1. Old Egg

    You are surely like a butterfly emerging from it’s chrysalis! This is beautiful introspection and I am sure many of us are the same way, feeling that other self, even seeing it fleetingly in a reflection, not necessarily in a the glass but sometimes in words we write and even thoughts we think too.

  2. paschal

    Lovely, poignant ode to impermanence. I love this – watches all and wonders / if this skin can hold me. – and the wonderings in the minimum-waged drooling corral, sad wonderings. Thank you for voicing this for us all, Dee.

  3. anno

    This one resonated deep in the bone — some of the songs you’ve been singing lately just make me ache. As always, am awed by your ability to transform these feelings from the dark places into works of great beauty. Gorgeous.

    1. Dee

      thank you. Winter is not a good time for me and I have not had much alone time lately. I get a bit ragged. I am thankful for words that create beauty out of sadness…and for words that resonate with others. I am blessed.

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