Untouched

The hate is gone.
Now there is a quiet
Which tricks my empty heart
into believing it is fed.
I AM a pillar standing alone.
I feel the ebb of the tide
pound through this empty cavity;
The wasteland I stand in.
Or maybe, I AM the wasteland.
This cannot be my fate;
To stand alone on the cold, hard sand
feeling this pulse, numbing kindly
     everything out.
Will the feeling ever resume?
The Ocean will not stop
but, the tide will always come in
     AND LEAVE AGAIN.
I will stand on the rocks
     untouched.

by Anon., Hinsdale, MA