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.
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