Silent, the Rocks

Rows of rocks weep over the sorrows
the anguishes that rooted them down.
Who Knows of the bones in the
burrows
or the steel that once
was the crown
of men forgotten.
The symbol hangs on
though the rocks remain
over which to weep.

Come, old woman in black
assemble the twigs of the deep.
Do not stop.
The stone is not your son's.
Below, your children await the fire.
Go!
Nourish them!
Another peak awaits.