A Mother Speaks to a Stone
Woman: Hold the spirit of my daughter in your embrace. Spread your wing over the troubled ground. Tip your head to her sleep. She was the gift of my prayer. She was my dream.
Stone: I will with your daughter stay. When you are home tonight, spread yourself on her bed. She is where you take her, but I will enable the care of her body soul spirit.
Woman: You seem more than stone. Why do I think you more than stone? I have never seen a figure more tenderly wrought. Are we women together?
Stone: A child’s heart has become our home. We are women.
Woman: Who made your wings? Who draped your dress? Did you guide her headstone when they placed it there? Have you watched over her place of rest?
Stone: I am always everywhere at once and in you and here. These things are the purview of my appointment. At all times these details have been given me. Be assured, every detail of the child’s well-being is the focus and concern of my faithful ministrations.
Woman: Are you God?
Stone: —
Woman: Are you here?
Stone: —
Woman: Why are you silent?
Stone: –
Woman: You are given me for comfort, then. I believe because I must.
Stone: —
