Statues, Statues

We were once made

Out of soft river clay

Collected by loving hands 

Then shaped and formed 

By caresses of quick fingers 

Round and soft and strong 

Treasured with every loving touch 

Treasured with every secret wish 

Whispered to us in the dark

We’d fall sometimes and crack

Or melt under pouring rain 

But then picked up again 

And again by loving hands

Shaped into a new familiar form

Joyfully endless

Nothing could break us 

Nothing could trap us

We were the essence of the world 

We were then made

Out of marble and stone 

Torn from the belly of a mountain

Then beaten and hammered into form 

By the blows of the scalpel 

Hard and lithe and weak

Treasured with hungry eyes

Treasured in glass cabinets 

Our bodies lit day and night 

We’ve fallen and cracked 

Lost an arm, leg or half of our face 

Left untouched ever after 

Put aside for better pieces 

No hope of ever being whole again

Eternally broken

No one could love us

No one could free us

Here at the edge of the world.