Here in my Garden,
Gentle breezes blow over soft green grass
And delicate stone paths,
Lead you away from the outside world
Of pain and noise.

My stone pathways,
Lead you to the sound
Of trickling water and sweet laughter...
And,
If you don't look up,
You can belive you are free,
And at peace within this hidden world-

If you don't care about the leaves that tremble,
Or the bushes that shake,
Then lie still...
You can believe that you are in a special place,
With special people...

And
If you're still not afraid,
You can follow the lilting voices
To the center of my Garden,
And find me playing soft music
To my little Stone Children.
Their hard, cold little fingers
Intertwined with mine,
Trying to mimic the sounds I make
And,
If you don't look too close-
You won't see the cracks,
Or the scars,
Or the missing limbs.
You won't notice the way they hide,
When you first arrive-
You won't wonder why they
Won't let you touch them-

My Children have been touched
Too much already;
By the cruel and ignorant,
By those who said they loved them...

My Children don't want your love-
A word they fear even here.
They want only the freedom
To be what they can:
Hard and Cold,
Untouched,
But alive.

I let them in,
But really,
I couldn't keep them out-
Somehow,
They find their way to me,
Follow me here.
Pass through my walls like little ghosts...

Haunt me with their silent cries
And fright filled eyes-
Eyes that know too much pain and sorrow,
Eyes I can't ignore...

Sometimes,
They show me things-
Scars and bruises,
Marks on their souls...
Sometimes,
They whisper things to me
As we sit back to back.
Secrets,
They can bear no longer...
And we sit,
Child and I,
Until the well runs dry-
And then,
I tell them about this place I know-
A Garden of Stone.
Built by my need to be alone-
And I explain about the walls,
So tall, So thick,
It protects and hides-
And the fountains run so pure-
The flowers that smell like spring after the rain...
You can go there,
Anytime you want,
Trail your fingers in the water
and lick them clean without tasting blood...

Sometimes,
They come with me,
Or they find the way on their own-
But,
It doesnt really matter anymore,
Because now,
They know they aren't alone.
That somewhere in the world
Awaits,
A Garden of Stone...