A stone hit me
Square in the head.
It hurt me quite badly.
Dazed and in great pain
I sought it out.
I said “Hey stone,
Why did you hurt me so badly?”
The stone remained silent,
Impassive, uncaring,
Unresponsive to my predicament.
It was, after all,
A stone.
Does any other adult feel
Like they are a wall?
Stopping waves of pain crossing
From one side to the other?
Sometimes that wall
Breaks
Or is insufficiency high,
Then the pain washes
Into unprepared garden spaces
Where inky torrents
Do their worst damage.
No more bright flowers
In once pleasant beds
Only sticky detritus:
Dark mud
A lasting stain
That cannot be
Washed away.
Passive Impressions 
