The Stone Carver

The Stone Carver

Rested upon their backs

A burden of memories

They traverse a river of tears

Seeking his skilled hands

To memorialize the fallen one

He is the Stone Carver

Silently, the artisan listens

As their story unfolds

 laced in anguish

For the one now forever gone

Taken from them in a distant land

Draped by an emerald jungle

Rugged mountains

Or blankets of sand

Fighting for freedom 

A sacrifice too young

The carver bids them farewell

As their story ends

Sitting at his workbench

His artistry begins 

Calloused hands touch a canvas

Of white granite stone

Hammer and chisel carving each letter

Declaring the name of a hero unknown

Droplets of sweat and forlorn tears

 mingle with dust

Recalling the names

Of the ones carved over the years

Never has he seen their faces

Or heard their call

Chiseled into his heart

The reason they fall

Toiling beneath a yellow light

Sounds of silence fill the night

As the name of a hero is given life

Eternally ascribed on a field of white

He is the Stone Carver

As a Running River

As a River Runs

 

A babe cries in the night

Lumbering through weary eyes

She comes whispering lullabies

Cradled in loving arms, he suckles her comfort

Hushing twilight’s call

 

As a river runs,

 the years pass by

Standing side by side, holding his small hand

Before entwined shadows

A mountain of bricks loom

Overflowing with colorful quills,

picture books, 

new-found friends, and hopeful promises

He lets go

A mother cries

 

As a river runs, 

the years pass by

Scraped knees

Blackened eyes

Busted elbows

Broken hearts

She will mend each one

With a mother’s care

 

As a river runs,

 the years pass by

A babe cries his first breath

A new name

Grandma

She shows her son how to hold his

 

As a river runs,

 the years pass by

Chocolate chips

Peppermint candies

Cake for breakfast

Secret words

She delivers each one

With a grandmother’s care

 

As a river runs,

 the years pass by

A fractured family stands hand in hand

A gilded casket filled with memories

A drape of sorrowful flowers

Wet with morning mist

A babe cries