The Rock

            The rock that trips one underfoot
            Is the same rock that’s used to make the mould
            Repeated casts in enduring stone
            Recycled thoughts, expressed and retold
            And with these rocks one builds one’s fort
            with mortared pride it keeps firm and straight
            Empowered details with mason’s care
            So no light’s rays can penetrate
            From within, the rocks still pile high
            Carried all on one’s burdened back
            Pain endured and justified
            Preparing for the next attack
            But no window view can light perceive
            A one-man battle in a mirrored corps
            Mounted force with banner prepped to leave
            Internal struggle poison’s the truth of war
            Self inflicted wounds occur
            A vine of thorns that mocks the crown
            Constricting close as a viper’s tongue
            Licks stigma’d wounds from sanguine’d pools and drowns
            And now trapped within the fort’s regret
            Bitter dark as air is sought
            And in despair does one reflect
            ‘twas better to have left that rock forgot

            Silvia Pecota