Mother of Stone (october)

have i come to the hands
of the Mother of Stone?

           



              granite smoothing
              in a rivers calm

              the stoned bedlam
              of a bedrock soul





how i danced
wildly once,
ecstatic and alone!





              now,  whole occurrences of my mind
              have slowed and even stopped
              like flowing magma
              resting into form





i'm not sure its science
but i get the feeling
that certain lichens would thrive
on the dormancy of my soul





                not that a stone
                is uninspired or not glad
                but should the mind of a man
                slow to such hardness?





the days are igneous,
and maintain a directionlessness
of geological precision

dreams more metamorphic
but offering no more pattern
than a maze of mountains





                   reduced by a river


                   abandoned like a boulder
                   in a terminal moraine





o Stone Mother
whose slow stone eyes
arrest my soul

indeed
you are beautiful
but let me go