The stone angel had beckoned to me
From her place among the disarray
Seemingly misplaced, she remained constant
As the overgrown shrubbery
Contorted themselves, like twisted limbs of the forgotten
Electric forces pulled me closer
And I found myself kneeling in the damp, moss-ridden ground in front of her
The air was filled with the peculiar mix of acrid rotting earth and floral sweetness
Which both settled my racing heart, and turned my stomach all at once
Unaware of why I needed to see her
Or the shear magnitude of my wanting to know her story
I searched for answers in the bleak grayness that enveloped her surroundings
A direct contrast to the milky pallor of the angel
I reached out towards her; I simply could not control myself
It was as though I was reaching forward for a sense of restored hope and faith
Finding in the cool, smooth stone something that I could believe in again
Her face had been warn down and was chipped with age
The only sign of scarring on the otherwise model of virtuous beauty
As I placed my hand above the angel’s heart a sense of contentment settled in my own
I had felt a sense of rightness that had been a void in my life
The stone angel had beckoned to me
Called forward with its urethral song
I had moved to her and she had answered the prayers I had not known I had given
I had searched for the mysteries of my live along the contours of her face
And restored the cracks along my heart,
By the entanglement of mine with her pale stone one
For years to follow I would return to her
Sometimes just to stare at my first glimpse of worldly beauty
And sometimes to once again find something to believe in which was held captive
In the silk like stone
The stone angel had beckoned to me
From her place among the disarray
In fact she still does,
Even to this day