The stones speak the language we give them
vocabulary imposed with a hammer and a chisel
in their own words
they would be steadfast and silent
we blow them up to make way for our own plans
grind them to gravel to crush
beneath the wheels of our progress
we press them into service
stand upon the steps we carve
and quarrel endlessly
while they watch
impartial as law
firm as justice
silent as equality
I can’t remember what was going on around me at the time I wrote this poem, but I can guess. . . . . Thanks for reading!
The Poetry Patio 