The Statue

by john valley

Look on this Stone,
This Statue tall and proud,
Bereft of any intemperate emotions' tempest tossed travail.

Look on this Stone,
With constant smile and haughty mein,
Unmoved by dark of night, or storming, thunderous gale.

It is not me.
It is not me, this stone
That stands before the winds of time unmoved by any tale.

I do not fear the night.
As with this statue, deaf and blind,
It has no power over me, no strength to turn me pale.

I do not fear the night.
No stone or rock or dead, unmoving thing
Can say it fears the night any less than me.

For I will not hear its tremulous, taunting hail,
Or give it any heed,
This thing that has no power over me.

Only this, one tiny thing,
This insubstantial, fog embodied, wispy, vacuous thing,
So frail, so weak,
This thing that blooms in morning light,
And fades before the first soft touch of night,
This thing that causes men to weep
And brings them to their knees,
This one lone thing,
So weak, so frail,
I fear it more than any evil thing.

Look on this stone,
This statue, streaked and pale.
It is not me.

And I will not have you think it is,
Or ever was, or ever could be me.
I have the earth, and the rains, and the birds
To comfort me.

I am strong!
I am stone!
Don't look at me!