statues of alabaster Sculptured seamless All in a row, frozen in Accusing stares, transfixed in the hall of judgements...
I pass them touching Their cold solid forms Smoothed by a masters hand I am not drawn to any For they have no soul Incapable of mercy Deaf of explanation
Their pointed fingers outstretched In common decision They have no grasp of vision Dark to a world of change Their feet stained with The blood of man and of stories untold, truths they silently uphold Locked in their shame
For the sculptor creates That which can not be erased...
I was left with an overwhelming feeling of "What if they could talk, what is it they would be able to say".. Alabaster statues have seen and heard so much.. Locked in time forever from the sculptor's vision and yet holding vision and life now of their own.. xx I love where this took me...x
If we dig into most things. Usually find more bad then good. I like the place you took me in this poem.
"truths they silently uphold
Locked in their shame"
Thank you for sharing the excellent poem.
Coyote
This is wonderful, Rene. Extremely relatable, especially in this day and age. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Perfect words, perfect length, an incredible write.