Fabrication

Her words dug at me,
Scraping across my skin like a
Chisel on stone.

I thought I was as
Hard as marble,
But, it seems in her hands, I am as
Soft as clay.

After she completed her work,
I did not recognize the
Face in the mirror.

Chipped away,
I have been
Broken down,
Defeated and
Molded into a pleasing
Compliant form.

Suitable,
Agreeable and lovely on her arm, a
Painted on smile
On display in a
Traveling exhibit of unknown
Duration.

– Written for dVerse Poetics, prompt was “sculpting a poem.” Photo from PublicDomainPictures.net.

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I Stand At The Gate

At the gate of Bonaventure Cemetery, Savannah, GA

I do not weep for those whose earthly vessels resting here beneath the soil. I weep with those souls left behind.

I am a guide, for the passing, through the veil between our two worlds.

I stand guard, to offer reassurance to those weakened by loss and to remind them that this temporary abode is but a moment in time.

My shuttered eyes demonstrate to visitors that this is a place of rest and not a place to fear. I represent the peace and stillness their loved ones now possess.

I hold fast to that which exemplifies strength in adversity and reconciliation in death. The cross that I lean upon is the key to unlocking the door to spiritual ascension.

Welcome to all who enter. May you know comfort here.

– Written for dVerse Poetics, prompt was “the voice of the sculpture.” Photo ©2010 Leara Morris-Clark.