There is a big black stone
on my chest
that keeps growing heavier.
I thought I was free
of it's oppression.
But longing and loneliness
press down on me
pressing me to the mattress
where worn springs
are worn wishes
and tears have soaked
the metal.
The tears have rusted
wishes old and used.
The longing speaks your name
and it makes the stone heavier
because all I want
is you.
This lack of air,
lack of peace,
makes me tired
and presses so hard
that I can barely breathe.
This wanting hurts sometimes-
almost all the time.
The longing speaks your name.
The stone grows heavier.
Rebekah, you got talent, but like the boulder on my shoulder, burdens can be pushed away with will and pop pop fizz fizz what a relief it is.
n age old theme presented in a novel way.Theheavy stone is an excellent descruption of that aching need
this poem = greatly done. i can relate and i like it alot.
A beautiful poem Rebekah - I really enjoyed this and I think you have written it superbly with great melancholy. Steve
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellently & originally done; a fine mature piece of writing that speaks to the depths. Thank you.