Hearts of Stone

It’s lonely here in the dark quiet of a moment
soon lost but never farther than the breadth of a sigh;
and I have imagined the bullet, the nothingness of pain,
the silence welcoming me home, the blessed relief
when hearts of stone are held captive
by the greater loneliness of a silent world.

Only the pills keep me level on this sloping plane
and the movement of the young, ever-present.
Even in my sleep I hear them
drifting into their own, one small step at a time.
Like a vine they turn around the spit of life
and I am the sun
to greet each morning’s passing.

It’s a calling, this keeping pace,
minding the mindlessness of the kitchen timer,
holding back a thimble full of kindness,
here and there to give and sometimes keep;
and be a friend in deed when deeds alone
bind fast and steady
these hearts of ancient stone.