The Guardians

Silent, cold gray stone,
with vacant eyes cast downward,
you know what we refuse to believe;
You watch us stare in wonder,
beneath the frozen ground,
beneath an icy sky.

Never moving, never changing,
fingertips clutch a hooded cape
casting shadows over shadowed ground;
Your bare feet standing fast,
keeping us trapped below,
our mouths agape in protest.

Speak to us of days in the sun and wind,
of days with color and movement,
and breathless whispers;
Once, we held a flower, a bird,
a lover, until silence came
to claim us for its own.

Cold, gray stone, defy the stillness
that binds you to this place
above our lonely tombs;
Spread your wings and sing to us
of life, once more coursing madly
like a river through our veins.

Lora Frikken ~ 5-29-05