Stone Faces

Do not look at me with eyes that do not see;

Think not of me with a heart that is numb.

Do not feel the searing heat of my ardor

With insulated nerves and deadened senses.

The prison that contains this heart

Is clad in granite chiseled from living rock,

Its walls reflecting the cold and stony emotion

Of your own pent-up rage like a shattered mirror.

As a sculptor, I bear two powerful tools

Which may break apart and utterly smash

That frozen, awful façade of silence that you wear

With hammer blows of undeniable force.

Only the briefest spark is required

To summon the stonecutter’s craft to life,

A breathing, coursing transformation wrought

By the mallet of Yang upon Yin.

When that moment comes, be ready,

For there will be a tremor of blinding power

That instantly destroys the unseeing, useless hate

That has locked your soul in its sheath of living quartz.

(Rapa Nui, 1985)